


Only one to stand by me

by Strudelmugel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 68,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudelmugel/pseuds/Strudelmugel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Street magician and con-artist Alin's lack of responsibility and dodgy scams have lost him many friends over the years, except Tsvetan, who has always stuck with him. <br/>But when Tsvetan goes missing, Alin must learn to become an adult and face his past, navigating a sordid underworld of crime and death, or lose the greatest thing in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night life

**Author's Note:**

> Tsvetan- Bulgaria  
> Alin- Romania

The tiny pub was packed full of people winding down after a long day of work, looking for a good time with friends or simply trying to drown their sorrows; just like every other Friday evening. There was a buzz in the air as people spoke loudly and freely, trying to be heard over the old 80s music playing on the jukebox. A small group were huddled around an old telly hung on the wall, watching a sports game, erupting into a sudden chorus of shouts every now and again. A pair of young children watched a game of snooker in interest, sometimes moving the coloured balls across the green table when the players weren't looking. On the other side of the room, their mother talked to a stranger about their jobs, heels clicking against the wooden floor as she flicked her hair in a flirtatious manner. A lone man sat at a table in the corner, occasionally checking his phone as a group of college students walked past, in the middle of celebrating the birthday of one of their members, who was currently trying to sip his first alcoholic drink as his mates elbowed and shoved him jokingly.

The last rays of sunlight poured in through the large, old fashioned, windows and there was a constant smell of cigarettes and alcohol in the air, as well as the faint scent of crisps and peanuts, whose crumbs were crammed into every crevice and crack there was.

Alin greeted acquaintances with a wave and cheery call as he pushed past groups of friends chatting casually, drinks in hands, and eventually made it to the bar to order drinks of his own, dragging his best friend, Tsvetan, right behind him.

"Do we have to come here all the time?" Tsvetan looked around uneasily, hand instinctively slipping into his large coat pockets and clasping his wallet and phone.

"Well I'm sorry, your majesty," Alin stuck his tongue out, leaning against the bar, "but we can't afford to go to a fancy gay bar every night just so I can sit in the corner and watch you get shitfaced whilst grinding against some stranger."

Tsvetan turned a rather unflattering shade of scarlet; "that never happened! I don't remember doing anything like… well… you can't provide evidence it happened!"

"I have grainy mobile phone footage to prove it did."

"You said you deleted that!" Tsvetan whipped out their shared phone, frantically prodding at buttons. It was an old thing that was one of the first to have a camera built into it, and seemed so high tech to Tsvetan when he had first bought it, but was now considered archaic and, frankly, embarrassing.

"I did!" Alin roared with laughter, "don't worry."

Tsvetan slowly lowered the phone, glowering though his eyes betrayed his amusement; "why don't I believe you?"

Alin shrugged. "You're so untrusting," he whined, poking his friend's shoulder.

"Maybe," Tsvetan gave a sly grin, "but I've made sure there's plenty of crap about you on here too."

"What?!" Alin tried to snatch the phone out of Tsvetan's hand, but the other held it out of his reach.

"I still don't like it here," Tsvetan slipped the phone back into his pocket.

"Don't try to change the subject!"

"But look around! It's dodgy as hell and full of freaking scandalous people. I've seen all sorts of illegal stuff go on in here."

" _We're_  dodgy and scandalous," Alin pointed out, resting an elbow on the counter, still waiting to be served.

" _You_  are," Tsvetan corrected, sitting on a barstool.

Alin shrugged and grinned, "why yes, I am, which is why I have no guilt in telling you of a fantastic way to make a fair bit of cash for the both of us."

"Is it illegal?" Tsvetan grimaced.

"Probably," Alin pulled a stack of tiny papers out of his shirt pocket, "trust me; this'll make us rich."

"Where have I heard that before?" Tsvetan scratched his chin, pretending to think, "oh yes, last week when you bought a load of sun screen."

"People need sunscreen!"

"Not in March…"

"Give it a few months; the customers will be snapping it up!"

"Will we still have food and a home in a few months?" Tsvetan looked genuinely worried for a moment.

"I'll work hard to make sure we do!" Alin winked, giving the other a reassuring pat.

"What'll you have guys?" asked the bartender, moving over to them, absent-mindedly cleaning a glass with a cloth.

"Oh hey Alfie," Alin grinned, "two vodka and cokes please, with the little umbrellas if you don't mind." Alfred F. Jones, student and part-time bartender, nodded and began mixing their drinks. Fresh-faced and carrying an enthusiastic air wherever he went, Alfred stood out here among the more hardened, worn down and booze-soaked faces of his customers.

"Wanna hear something wicked?" hissed Alin, nudging the teen.

"Yeah alright," Alfred passed them their drinks and leaned on the counter to listen.

"Well these," Alin waved the stack of papers in Alfred's face, "are tickets for a charity raffle. We sell these to random people on the street for, say, a few dollars each, and tell them their ticket will go into a draw to raise money for some charity and if their ticket's pulled out they'll win some wicked cool prizes, like a bike or bottle of wine. We'll take their phone numbers and say we'll call them if they win. But," Alin waved his finger in Alfred and Tsvetan's faces, "we aren't going to call anyone, or even do a raffle. We just keep the money."

"Immoral," murmured Tsvetan, "but pretty smart. I'm in."

"Not bad," Alfred raised his eyebrows.

"Hey Al, get off your lazy ass and serve some drinks! I'm not paying you to chat with your mates, you know! You can do that in your own time boy!" cried one of the other bartenders.

"Right away," Alfred called back, smiling apologetically at his boss, "see ya round."

"'Course," Tsvetan took a sip from his drink, "so, Al, how much did we make today?"

"Seventy bucks," replied Alin, downing half his coke and vodka in one gulp, "not bad for a few silly magic tricks."

"Yeah," agreed Tsvetan, "but why do I have to be your 'glamorous' assistant all the time? I wouldn't mind doing a few tricks myself every now and again. I've been practicing, I'll have you know."

"You can do that when you learn to pull a bouquet of flowers out of your sleeve without their heads and leaves coming off," Alin stuck out his tongue and the pair chuckled.

"They get caught on my shirt sleeve," protested Tsvetan, "not my fault. I'm alright with the card tricks."

Alin felt the need to avoid the brutal honest truth: Tsvetan sucked at card tricks. "Yes but you don't have my charisma," he placed a hand on his chest and wiggled his eyebrows.

Tsvetan shook his head and took another sip.

"Look," Alin continued, "here I am in a snappy red and black suit complete with a quirky little hat, and you're in scruffy jeans and some green jumper your grandmother sent you two years ago that you grew out of."

"Why am I even friends with you?"

"Because we live together?" suggested Alin, taking another large gulp; "because I'm irresistible?"

"By 'irresistible' do you mean 'annoying as fuck'?" Tsvetan raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Least I ain't a stick in the mud," Alin shot back.

"Am not!" cried Tsvetan; "you know very well that I'm fun to be around. I just don't want to end up in jail before I'm twenty-three thank you very much."

"Hey, I've never gotten you into trouble, have I?" Alin placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "I always take extra care in making sure the police don't notice us, and if we ever got arrested, I'd take all the blame and do all I could to make sure you'd go free."

"Alin, I'm touched," Tsvetan smiled, "you would really go to so much trouble and sacrifice yourself for me?"

"Course," Alin shrugged and took another gulp of alcohol, "an annoying bastard like you would never survive prison; you'd get your fucking teeth kicked in the first hour you're there."

"I swear one day I'm gonna punch you in the dick so hard your children's children will feel it," Tsvetan growled.

"That'll be the day," Alin finished his drink and slammed the glass on the table, swaying ever so slightly, "hit us again Al!"

Alfred wandered over and grinned, "same again boys?"

"Sure!"

"Hey I was thinking," began Alfred, "how much you selling them tickets for?"

"Three dollars apiece."

"Three?" exclaimed Tsvetan, "who's gonna buy a ticket for three dollars?"

"I will," replied Alfred, "can I have one?"

"Seriously?" Tsvetan groaned. "Looks like someone's been drinking on the job again," he added quietly to himself.

"I've always wanted a bike," Alfred shrugged, "might get lucky."

"You know there's no-"

"Of course you can!" cried Alin, "tell you what; you can have a ticket for two dollars, seeing as you're a mate and all. Just write your name and phone number here and I'll call you if you win."

"I don't sodding believe this," muttered Tsvetan, knocking back the last of his drink.

…

"Have I ever told you you're really hot?" mumbled Alin, voice slurred.

"Yes, every time you get rat-assed," Tsvetan snarled, supporting his friend as the man could barely stand up by himself. Alin was leaning heavily on his shoulder and Tsvetan was blasted with alcohol breath every time the man exhaled. He avoided the other's gaze as he was hit by a pang of guilt. He hadn't meant to raise his voice.

"Oh, do I really?" Alin hiccupped and tripped on his own feet, "well I really mean it, you know?"

"Sure you do," replied Tsvetan through gritted teeth. He wondered why he was always snappy with Alin when the man was drunk. They were never like that normally. Maybe he was tired of looking after someone who seemed to have the mental age of a three year old when drunk, apart from the whole acting like an outrageous flirt thing. Or maybe it was because Tsvetan had very little respect for people who couldn't hold their liquor.

"You're a good friend," Alin continued.

" _I freaking know_! That's why I'm still carrying you after you blew most of our earnings in a few hours chugging down drinks in record time; picked a fight with the biggest bloke you could find; and threw up in the alley outside."

"I fuckin'- fuckin' beat the shit out of that bastard, didn't I?"

"Course you did," Tsvetan decided it was best not to mention that Alin had lost. Badly. Those bruises would  _really_  hurt tomorrow, along with the pounding headache that was sure to follow that much alcohol intake.

"Fuckin'… fucking showed him, fat prick; he looked at me funny, you know?"

"Yes, yes, I was there."

Tsvetan realised they'd reached their home: a large red-brick, two-storey building full of tiny, run-down, apartments; "get in, will you." He pushed Alin up the stone steps to the front porch, fumbled through his pockets to find his keys, opened the door and shoved his friend inside. He decided it was best to quickly usher his friend to their apartment on the top floor before he woke the entire building up with his noisy chatter. Some people here had real jobs, and wouldn't appreciate being roused in the middle of the night one bit. Once they reached their floor, Alin glanced around, staggering slightly.

"Hey it's fucking dark in he-"

"Shut the fuck up and get inside."

"Fuckin make me," Alin poked Tsvetan hard in the chest, stumbling as he did so. He stuck his chin out, attempting to throw a glower in Tsvetan's direction, though it only succeeded in making the other snort in amusement.

"Alright," Tsvetan grinned before he lifted the other man up and threw him over his shoulder, ignoring the drunk's protests.

"Put me down! What are you doing?" Alin thumped Tsvetan's back as the latter tried to find the right key for their apartment door, before going limp, admitting defeat. Tsvetan guessed the other was pouting. "Hey, is that my ass down there?"

Tsvetan closed his eyes and began mentally counting to ten, "no it's mine."

"Good, those jeans are fucking ugly! What were you thinking boy?"

"I swear," whispered Tsvetan, finally succeeding in opening the door, "one day, you won't know what hit you." He barged into Alin's room and threw the drunken man on his bed.

"Go to sleep," he commanded.

"But-" Alin bleated.

"Go. To. Fucking. Sleep." hissed Tsvetan, "or I'll punch you square in the jaw."

He'd reached the end of his patience now, and just wanted to curl up under his own duvet and sleep off his own intoxication. Alin would be far easier to deal with tomorrow.

"Fine, prick," Alin lay down and wrapped his duvet around him, glaring at the wall opposite like a small child. Tsvetan sighed and walked into the main room, which was a mixture of a living room and kitchen, poured a glass of water and grabbed a packet of headache tablets from the cupboard. He slipped back into Alin's bedroom, found his friend was now asleep and placed both items on his bedside table, for when the man woke up.

"Sweet dreams, crazy bastard," he whispered, before going into his own room.


	2. Close friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I should probably put warnings up as, like my other fics, this one needs a warning. It's rated T for violence, alcohol use, swearing and mentions of illegal activities. I'm serious about the violence.

"Don't ever let me drink like that again," groaned Alin, stumbling into the main room of their apartment and wincing at the midday light, desperately trying to cover his eyes with his arms.

"Noted," replied Tsvetan, lounging on the sofa, a smug smile on his face, "so, what's the plan for the day, huh? Street magic, selling useless crap or duping people into paying for fake raffle tickets?"

"I think we can take today off," said Alin, plopping himself down on the couch and rubbing his face.

"Very generous, sir."

"Thanks for the water and pills, by the way," Alin covered his face with a pillow, "I've such a massive headache."

"Have you learnt your lesson yet?" enquired Tsvetan.

"Yes, never allow myself to sober up again," replied Alin jokingly, sliding down the sofa so he was lying on it instead.

"No."

"Ah, I dunno then."

Tsvetan sighed and picked up a small portable CD player that was lying next to the couch, turning it on full blast.

"FUCKING WHAT THE HELL MAN?!" cried Alin, covering his ears and gaping at Tsvetan in horror.

"Oh come on," replied Tsvetan slyly, "I thought you like loud music."

"No! I fucking hate music when I'm all hung-over and you know it!" Alin curled into a ball, kicking out and whining.

"No you don't! Sing with me!"

"No!"

"Yes!" Tsvetan knew he was probably having more fun than he should have been, "come on!"

"Turn this piece of shit song off now!" cried Alin.

"Have you learnt your lesson?"

"Yes! I won't get drunk again!"

"Promise?" Tsvetan raised an eyebrow.

"Yes! I fucking promise!" Alin was writhing on the couch, clutching his head.

"Fine," Tsvetan switched the CD player off, setting it back down on the floor.

"At last!" Alin lay still, "you know how sensitive I get when I'm hung over; why would you play it when I'm like this?"

"So you learn not to get so drunk that I have to carry you home again," answered Tsvetan, "besides, I thought you liked music so loud it makes the whole building vibrate? That's how you spend most of your days off, having one-man discos."

"Yes but not right now," grumbled Alin. "Hey are you making breakfast?"

"No-"

"Good boy," Alin patted Tsvetan on the back, "I'll have beans on toast."

Tsvetan sighed and stood up, wandering over to the kitchen area, peering into the cupboard and bringing out a tin of beans and a loaf of bread.

"Hmm, maybe some bacon too?" suggested Alin.

Tsvetan opened the fridge and pulled out a packet.

"And fried eggs?"

Tsvetan placed a carton on the counter with the other ingredients.

"Sausages?"

"Don't have any," Tsvetan slammed the door shut and turned the cooker on.

"Aww," Alin pouted and switched the TV on.

"I thought you had a headache," said Tsvetan suspiciously.

"Yeah but TV doesn't do your head any harm," Alin began flicking through the channels to find something worth watching, "hey, when you have a moment, be a dear and flick through the TV pages to see if there's anything good on."

"They're nearer to you," Tsvetan jerked a thumb at the coffee table, where the weekly TV guide was sitting. Alin feebly stretched an arm out, let out a little whine and looked pleadingly at Tsvetan.

"It's so far," he complained.

Tsvetan rolled his eyes, though his lips twitched upwards, betraying his amusement, and passed the magazine over.

"Thanks," Alin began flicking through the pages, "hey, there's an action movie on later. Wanna watch it?"

Tsvetan grunted, not taking his eyes off the frying pan, where the bacon was now sizzling.

"Cooking show on in half an hour," Alin droned, eyes scanning the page, "what'ya say?"

"Sure," Tsvetan shrugged.

"Maybe until then you could pretend you're doing a cooking show," Alin sat up and watched his roommate expectantly.

"Seriously?" Tsvetan raised an eyebrow, "isn't that a little, you know, childish?"

Alin blinked.

"Okay then," he put on his best presenter's voice and faced the cupboards, pretending that was where the cameras were, "welcome to Tsvetan Borisov's Saturday cookery show," he turned around and grinned at Alin, "today my glamorous assistant, Alin Radacanu, and I will be showing you how to prepare a fried breakfast, perfect for hangovers brought on by irresponsible drinking," he glared smugly at Alin.

"Yeah, yeah," Alin airily waved a hand.

"Come on, Alin," said Tsvetan slyly, "come say hello to the camera."

"No sodding way."

Tsvetan groaned dramatically, "Alin! You cannot swear on national television, shithead!" He strode over to the sofa and dragged Alin into the kitchen area, "now be nice and say hello to everyone at home."

"Fine," Alin waved at the cupboards, "hello everyone!"

"Great," Tsvetan began cracking eggshells against the frying pan and allowing the eggs to drip into the pan, next to the bacon, "now Alin, can you get a pan from the cupboard and open that tin of beans."

"Yes sir," Alin did as he was told, all the while pretending it was for the benefit of their 'viewers', "now let's prepare a breakfast!"

…

"Don't leave the closet you fool!" Tsvetan cried at the TV, "the killer's gonna find you, you stupid fucking prick!" He waved his arms wildly, almost upsetting the large bowl of popcorn on his lap, "why am I even watching this shit?" Alin just chuckled, taking another sip of cranberry juice whilst Tsvetan threw empty food packets at the TV in frustration.

"Because I asked you?" he shrugged, "besides, you're one to talk about leaving the closet, you big gay."

"Shut up!"

"It's fun watching horror movies with you," he commented, "you're one of the few people who aren't scared shitless of them."

"Well the acting's so terrible it's laughable," reasoned Tsvetan, "and your horror stories are way worse than this crap."

"I don't tell horror stories!" cried Alin indignantly, "I tell interesting stories you massive wuss! They're all true, you know?"

"Sure, sure," Tsvetan rolled his eyes, "so what do you wanna watch after this?"

The pair had spent the entire afternoon lazing on the couch, eating and watching TV. It was now late evening and the two were making the most of a horror movie marathon. Alin shrugged.

"I think one of the twilight movies are on the other channel," Tsvetan glanced at Alin slyly.

"Don't you fucking dare!" growled Alin, "you know I hate modern vampire movies, especially  _that_."

"But it's  _such_  a sweet love story," whined Tsvetan, once more enjoying winding Alin up.

"No it's not!" Alin threw a handful of popcorn in Tsvetan's direction, "even those crappy old Dracula movies are better than that heap of shit!"

"Ah those are funny," Tsvetan chuckled, throwing a handful of his own popcorn at Alin.

"Yeah they are. What sort of idiot thought this would be scary," Alin made fake-fangs with his fingers, "I vont to suck your blood!" he spoke in an exaggerated accent and leapt at Tsvetan, causing the other to squeal and both bowls of popcorn to go flying.

"Get off me you dickhead!" Tsvetan rolled up the TV guide and used it to playfully fend off Alin as he pretended to attack him, "hey no biting!" Tsvetan hit Alin on the head with the magazine, hard.

"But I'm a scary vampire!"

"Piss off!" Tsvetan started laughing uncontrollably, "ow that hurts! Get your pointy little teeth out of my arm!"

"Sorry," Alin scooted over to his own side of the couch, "and I don't have pointy little teeth."

"It's fine," Tsvetan assured him, "but I might need to call your mother."

"Why?" asked Alin suspiciously.

"So I can lecture her on the importance of breastfeeding her children long enough to stop them from turning into orally-fixated little psychos."

"Into what now?" scoffed Alin.

"It's in my psychology book," Tsvetan walked over to the shelf and picked up an old, dog-eared textbook, "from when I was majoring in it, remember?"

He flicked through the pages as he sat back down, "see? Freud says that if a child experiences trauma during the first eighteen months of life then they can become orally fixated, leading to nail and pen biting, a sarcastic personality and a need to manipulate others to get what they want or need, any of those traits sound familiar, Mr goes-through-fifty-pens-a-month? Not that Freud's theories are worth much nowadays, since so much has changed and all…"

"Well, damn," Alin's eyes scanned the page as Tsvetan was talking, "but out of us two you're more sarcastic."

"I know. You're also kind of needy," Tsvetan commented.

"Oh piss!" huffed Alin, crossing his arms and glaring at his friend.

"You know I'm right," said Tsvetan matter-of-factly, shutting his book and chucking it onto the coffee table.

"Tsve,  _why_  did give up college?" demanded Alin, "you're a clever man and could've easily been a famous psychologist, like that fraud guy."

"You mean Freud?" Tsvetan sighed, "look, things just got in the way. My family couldn't provide all that funding for college and uni, and I wanted to provide for my family. You provided me with work. It may not always be legal, but it brings more money in than just staying in school," he glared at the man next to him, "well it would if you didn't spend so much."

"What?" a hurt look came across Alin's face, "I spend money on necessities!"

"Like booze and gambling?" Tsvetan raised an eyebrow.

"I also send money back to my mother," argued Alin, "you know, to help my little brother stay well fed and happy."

"Really?" Tsvetan blinked, "oh, I didn't know. And there was me thinking you were completely self-centred."

"Well it's the only way to get the old bat to send presents and food over," Alin shrugged.

"Ah," Tsvetan shook his head, "should've known you'd have an ulterior motive."

"That's me," Alin winked then his smile fell, "seriously though; you know I do care about my family."

"I know."

"I care about you too," Alin added.

"Really?" Tsvetan glanced at him hesitantly.

"Really," Alin extended a hand, "friend."

"Friend," Tsvetan smacked the young man on the back and the pair turned their attentions back to the TV.


	3. Too close for comfort

"Now… now, err, for my next trick I'll need a… a volunteer," Alin watched in despair as Tsvetan fumbled with a pack of cards; forgot vital parts of the routine he was attempting due to being bogged down with trying to remember the details; and eventually produced the wrong card, much to the aggravation of everyone watching. Including himself and Alin.

"Okay then," Tsvetan rifled through the deck, undeterred, "is  _this_  your card?"

"No."

"This one?"

"No," Alin could see the volunteer was becoming more and more disgruntled and the audience members that hadn't already left were muttering angrily to each other. A few were even booing, to Tsvetan's horror.

The pair were standing in a crowded market surrounded by people selling various produce and trinkets from stalls, tables and even suitcases. It was where they spent most of their days, if not performing then selling whatever Alin could find. Alin stood back a little from Tsvetan and his irritated audience, with a large, worn out, suitcase by his right leg.

"You know, I was so sure I got the right card this time," Tsvetan was frantically shuffling the deck, close to tears and starting to panic. Alin decided to jump in and rescue the poor boy.

"Okay show's over," he walked up to Tsvetan and patted him on the back, "my friend here's a bit stressed today so can't perform too well. He's a good magician, honestly," Alin knew he could probably salvage the situation by doing a few tricks himself, but guessed that would just upset Tsvetan even more.

The crowd began to disperse, still angrily muttering, but one woman walked up to the pair and handed Tsvetan a battered old dollar.

"For your effort," she told him, then walked off.

"Most grateful," Tsvetan smiled warmly.

"Okay, let's get out of here before you start welling up," said Alin jokingly and the duo ducked into a side street, sighing with relief.

"Sorry 'bout that," Tsvetan stuffed the deck of cards into his coat pocket and adjusted his scarf.

"Hey it's fine," Alin shrugged, then grinned, "got some new stock in so we can sell that for a bit. But let's take a small break first."

"Is it stolen?" asked Tsvetan apprehensively.

"Course not! Got it off Alfred's brother."

"So it _is_  stolen."

"Is this really the time for technicalities? I don't know if it's legal or not," exclaimed Alin, "and neither does anyone out there. We just have to sell it."

"Well I'm sure we can simply ask our local police officer if it's stolen- no problem at all- and he'd probably even take it off our hands for us. Maybe even treat us to some prison food." Tsvetan leaned against a wall and rolled his eyes, "well we should probably get on with it then and actually  _make_  some money today. Don't want to get behind on the rent, again."

"Don't worry," Alin assured him, waving a hand dismissively, "if worst comes to worst, we can share a bedroom and rent out the other room to whoever's mad enough to take it."

"I'm not sharing with you," scoffed Tsvetan, "you hit out in your sleep. I always wake up thinking I'm in a boxing ring."

"And you snore so loud it can be heard within a five mile radius," Alin shot back, "doesn't matter anyway," he straightened his black tie, smoothed down his dark red shirt and stuck his thumbs in the suspenders he used to hold up his black pants, "how do I look?"

"Fantastic," Tsvetan grinned, "and how do I look?"

"Like a dipshit in an old coat," Alin joked, before leaning in closer, "which is stolen, by the way."

"Course," groaned Tsvetan, "and you told me you got it in an actual store!"

"And I couldn't believe you thought I was telling the truth," Alin flashed a grin, "so, on to business?"

…

"Step right up folks and get your genuine kiddies' toys real cheap," Alin held up a stuffed bunny for the crowd to see, "four dollars, what'ya folks say? You'll take two? We have t-shirts as well! In all sizes and colours! Which, believe me, is something you can't get in an ordinary shop easily, am I right?" now it was Tsvetan's turn to sit in the sideline and watch Alin keep the crowd entertained with a mixture of yelling, humour and salesman jargon, taking money and handing out toys, clothes and bric-a-brac.

He really had a knack for getting people to listen to him and Tsvetan wondered why Alin didn't just get a job that involved being around loads of people? He could charm even the grumpiest person, make them laugh and cheer with just a few words and a smile. Heck, Alin could probably make anyone feel good about anything. Tsvetan knew he was, deep down, a bit of a twat, but even deeper down was a genuinely good person, hidden under other personalities.

Not for the first time, Tsvetan wondered what made Alin protect his inner self with so many different barriers. It was almost like he was scared of someone liking him in any way, apart from Tsvetan, of course. Then again, there were times where he was distant with Tsvetan too…

"Hey Tsvet," Alin side-stepped over to his friend and handed him a couple of notes, "go get some coffee, maybe a cake too if there's enough money."

"Sure, sure, and next time, say please," Tsvetan gave a small smile and disappeared into the crowd.

Alin chuckled to himself, turned around and was about to make his way back to his suitcase when he saw a policeman rifling through it. He gave a little squeak and tried to back away. Too late; he'd been seen.

"Are these yours?" demanded the policeman.

"Err, no?" Alin tried, attempting to look as innocent as possible. Was it worth making a run for it?

"Correct," the policeman nodded.

"Oh?"

"These are stolen goods, so, technically, not yours."

"They're stolen?" Alin clapped a hand over his mouth, gasping in fake shock and shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, I had no idea! I'm so sorry! I'm telling you, the man I bought them off  _assured_  me they were legal and I had nothing to do with it!"

"Like hell you did," the policeman lunged forward and grabbed Alin's arm, "I've seen you here before, selling dodgy items and conning people out of their money! You won't get away this time!"

"Wanna bet?" muttered Alin, allowing himself to be handcuffed, "well really, officer," he added, louder and mostly for his own amusement, "you should at least buy me dinner first before  _this_  sort of play." He was ignored.

"We've been after you for months, Mr Radacanu," the policeman continued, "you're pretty elusive."

"I try," Alin grinned.

"But it appears your luck has run out," the policeman went back to the suitcase and Alin took the opportunity to pull a hairpin out of his sleeve, where he always kept it in case of situations like this, which weren't as infrequent as he'd like to admit. "I have enough evidence here to put you away for a good few years."

"How nice," commented Alin, trying to keep the officer distracted whilst he opened the cuffs. Eventually, he heard the satisfying click and the wretched things fell off.

"Hey, err, officer," Alin began, "would you like to see a magic trick?"

"No," the officer didn't take his eyes off the contents of the suitcase, jotting everything down in a little notebook.

"Ah come on, this is a good one," insisted Alin, "it's this act where I break out of handcuffs and disappear."

The officer's head snapped up to see Alin, holding the handcuffs in one hand and giving a small wave, grinning innocently, before he dashed into the crowd of shoppers, throwing the cuffs high into the air behind him.

"Oy! Come back here!"

"No fuckin' way!" Alin called back as he pushed his way through the throng of people and stalls, ducking and dodging his way down the busy street, desperately struggling to escape. So intent was he in his task, that Alin ran straight into a familiar figure and they both fell to the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry," gushed Alin as he tried to untangle himself and get away.

"Oh hey man, what's the hurry?"

"Alfred?" Alin blinked in surprise as the cheerful, blond teen pulled himself up and grinned.

"Yeah, just out getting some stuff. Taking in the city air, you know?"

"Oy! There you are!"

"Yeah I'm sure that's great and all," Alin started running again, "but there's a policeman after me!"

"What?" Alfred started running too, as he was also known to the police for being involved with dodgy activities, "ah man! What are you getting me into!" he cried, glancing over his shoulder at their pursuer.

"Shut up and follow me!" Alin barged past a large group of shoppers, dragging Alfred with him. The pair weaved in and out of stalls before ducking behind a display of woolly hats and scarves, panting heavily but not making a sound.

After fifteen minutes, they decided it was no longer dangerous and Alfred peeked around the side.

"Coast is clear," he informed Alin, who nodded.

"Yeah," he replied, "I think we're safe for the moment."

"Great, so can I do my shopping now, or have you managed to piss off the army or navy too?"

"Not that I know of," Alin stood up, grinning.

"And what are you going to do?"

"Go home and chill the fuck out," sighed Alin, "I'm getting too old for this sorta stress."

…

"Hey I got our… coffees," Tsvetan stood in the spot where, only ten minutes ago, he'd been watching Alin at work, "Al? Where'd ya go?" it was strange, the suitcase was still there, so Alin must be near, right? He never left the case unattended. What if he was in trouble?

"Got away again," Tsvetan heard someone mutter from behind him. A burly police officer walked past him and snapped the suitcase lid shut, "at least we can return these," the man added, "I swear one day I'll get him…"

Tsvetan pretended to admire a set of necklaces on a nearby stall and watched, in a series of quick glances, as the officer picked up the case and left, still muttering to himself.

"Oh God," he cried, as soon as the officer was out of earshot, "Alin!'"Tsvetan didn't notice he'd dropped the two cups of scalding hot coffee on his shoes and pants, and a couple of passers-by, in his haste to rush off and find Alin.

_What have you gotten yourself into this time, Al?_


	4. Ignorance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marianne- Monaco

Alin lazily flicked through the channels on the tiny portable TV, not fully paying attention to what he was looking at, just allowing the colours to swirl and flicker in front of his eyes. Next to him sat a bowl of chips and a six-pack of beers, his only companions throughout the lazy afternoon. Outside, the sun was slowly setting behind the grey-brown buildings, orange light spilling in through the window, making the whole room glow in the evening light. A whole afternoon wasted. Not that Alin particularly cared.

He heard the door burst open but didn't bother looking up until a loud, distressed, cry cut through the room.

'WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?' Tsvetan bounded across the room and shook Alin violently by the shoulders, 'I've been looking all over for you! Seriously, Marianne Bonnefoy- you remember her? Francis' little sister, owns a market stall- anyway- she told me the police were after you and I tried to find out where you'd gone and if you were still safe. I was so scared that they'd arrested you,' Tsvetan stood up straight and ran his hands through his dark hair, 'I've been round all the bars, clubs, alleys, cafes, just anywhere you would be hiding and asked everyone! No one had seen you!' he laughed, overwhelmed with sheer relief, 'and you were here the whole time!'

'Course…' Alin frowned, 'now could you move; you're blocking the TV.'

'What?' Tsvetan gaped at Alin in confusion, sitting down next to him on the couch, 'but I looked everywhere for you and was so worried.'

'Why? I was here all along.'

'I didn't know that!' exclaimed Tsvetan, 'and why didn't you try to find me when the coast was clear? You must've known I'd be wondering where you'd got to!'

'Please, Tsve,' whined Alin, voice slurred ever so slightly, 'I've had a really stressful day! I was so damn close to going down for a long time it wasn't even funny. I've got the shakes!' he held up both his hands, as if to prove his point.

'Dammit Alin,' growled Tsvetan, 'you always get into situations like this so don't even try to act like it was overly traumatic for you.'

'And I always do stupid shit that gets me into trouble,' Alin shot back, glaring at his friend with a mixture of annoyance and confusion, 'so don't even act like you were all that worried!'

'I always worry about you!' cried Tsvetan.

'Why?'

'Because-' Tsvetan stopped, looking away, 'well, because you're my friend and I care about you,' he sighed heavily, once more looking his friend in the eye, a grave expression on his face, 'You travel through life tiptoeing along on a tightrope, Alin Radacanu, always one wrong move away from falling into the abyss with no safety net cause- guess what- in life there's no safety net. But you don't see that! Do you never realise how close you are to spending the rest of your life in prison? What am I supposed to do without you?'

'That's nice,' Alin turned the volume on the TV up.

'Fucking unbelievable,' muttered Tsvetan, 'would you even care if I was hurt or killed?'

He got no answer.

'Alin?'

'Sorry,' Alin snapped his head to the side, staring at Tsvetan with a blank expression, 'what were you saying?'

'That's it!' Tsvetan shot up, yelling in frustration, causing Alin to jump, 'I'm fucking outta here! I can't even look at you right now.'

'Good thinking,' replied Alin, 'it's been a long day for both of us and we could do with some time apart for a bit to clear out heads.'

'Clear? You need your head  _testing_ ,' spat Tsvetan, glaring at Alin in disgust, 'and I mean it, I'm leaving for good!'

'Don't you think you're over-'

'I'M NOT OVERREACTING!' screamed Tsvetan, 'I've put up with your shit long enough, Alin! You just don't seem to care about how you affect others, do you? You just march through each day expecting everyone to love you and do everything you tell them to without question. And I put up with that because I care about you so damn much, you don't even know how much. But no more! I'm through,' he shook his head in disbelief, 'you're on your own.' he marched into his room, leaving Alin sat in stunned silence.

'What's eating him?' he wondered.

…

'Anything you'd like to say?' Tsvetan stood at the door in his thick green coat and scarf, carrying a backpack full of his possessions.

'…There's a documentary on leeches at nine,' suggested Alin.

'Why am I even friends with you?' spat Tsvetan, throwing the door open and storming into the hall.

'Hey fine, I'm sorry!' Alin leapt off the couch and ran after him, 'we won't watch the show if leeches scare you!' he reached the stairwell just in time to see Tsvetan slam the front door shut behind him on the ground floor. Alin shrugged, returning to his apartment.

'He'll be back,' the man reasoned, 'I'm sure he will.'


	5. Lost and alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heracles- Greece
> 
> Stelios- Cyprus
> 
> Katya- Ukraine
> 
> Lilli- Liechtenstein

The next morning, Alin found himself knocking furiously on the front doors of everyone Tsvetan knew, trying to find out where the man had spent the night. At that moment, he was standing in the, slightly overgrown, garden of a little brick house, fist pounding on the door.

'Hera… Hera… HeraHeraHeraHeraHera.'

The door swung open and Alin came face to face with a brunette, slightly tanned man in his late twenties. He wore a dressing gown hurriedly thrown over pyjamas and Alin guessed he'd woken the man up by knocking, not that that was his biggest concern right now.

'Yes?' he asked, yawning slightly, 'can I help you?'

'Hey Heracles, have you seen Tsvetan at all?' Alin cut straight to the point, 'we had a fight and he stormed off. I thought he might be here.'

'You wake me up at six in the morning because you can't find Tsvet?' Heracles sighed, 'sorry, haven't seen the guy in weeks.'

'Oh,' Alin's face fell.

'Don't be like that,' Heracles gave a reassuring smile, 'he probably spent the night sleeping on Katya's couch, they're pretty close, right? If not, then try Ivan or Sadik,' he scratched the back of his head, trying to come up with more suggestions, 'maybe he snuck back into your apartment complex at some point and stayed with one of the neighbours. Toni and old man Vargas are pretty decent people and wouldn't object to taking him in.'

'True,' agreed Alin, 'but I already asked them. I'll try Katya and the others though.' He began walking down the garden path, 'oh, you will look out for him, right? And get Stelios and Kiku to look out for him too. And if you see Tsve,' Alin sighed, 'tell… tell him I'm sorry.'

'Will do,' Heracles assured him.

…

'Here boy,' Alin let out a series of short whistles, 'come here Tsve,'

He stood in the middle of a small city park, feet crunching against the gravel on the footpath as he wandered past trees, flower beds and green, open spaces. It was early March, and the first daffodils and bluebells were already beginning to spring up everywhere, new life after a cold, dead winter. It was one of Tsvetan's favourite places in the world and Alin hoped to find him here, seeing as none of his friends had seen him. Well, 'hoped' probably wasn't the best word to describe Alin's conflicting wishes. He wanted to find Tsvetan as soon as possible, of course, so he could make it up to him, but then again, it was chilly and damp out here and Alin prayed Tsvetan hadn't resorted to spending the night on a park bench. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if that were the case.

'Borisov,' he called, peering into a hedge, just in case Tsve was hiding, 'where the hell are you?'

'Lost someone?' Alin wheeled round to find a small girl staring curiously at him. She had short blonde hair tied with a ribbon and wide teal eyes; he placed her age at around thirteen to sixteen. It was hard to tell because she was wearing a puffy, pink dress that no regular child over six would wear and it made her look somewhat babyish. She was sitting on a park bench at the side of the pathway, slowly folding and unfolding her hands nervously.

'Well, yeah, actually,' Alin wondered if she would mind him sitting next to her; he hadn't had a break all day. He didn't want to scare her though; she was probably scared enough as it was.

'I've lost someone too,' the girl looked at her lap.

'Oh?' Alin decided to sit down, if only to keep her company, 'who?'

'My older brother,' she looked up at him and gave a bright smile, 'but it's okay. He told me that if we got separated in the park then I should just sit near the entrance and he'll meet me there. That way we have a system of finding each other. I'm Lilli, by the way.'

'Alin. Your system sounds smart,' Alin started playing with his coat sleeves, 'I wish I could do that for my friend.'

'How did they get lost?' inquired Lilli, 'if you don't mind me asking.'

'Not at all,' Alin sighed, leaning back, 'well, we had a big argument last night and he stormed out.'

'What was the fight about?' Lilli shrugged, 'maybe talking about it might help you find out where he went.'

'Well,' began Alin, 'yesterday I got- err- into a bit of trouble, shall we say, and I got separated from my friend, his name is Tsvetan, by the way, and I went home, thinking he would do he same. I don't know why, but I was just sitting in my apartment and I kinda started thinking about my life and what I was doing with it. It got a bit deep, too deep for me to really handle, so I started drinking to forget about my problems. Probably not the smartest idea,' he admitted, 'and when Tsve came home he said he'd been looking all over for me and was practically crappin' himself he was so worried.'

'Sounds like a good friend to go to so much trouble,' Lilli commented.

'I wish I'd been sober enough to realise,' cried Alin, 'I just brushed him off and didn't pay attention to what he was saying. I didn't realise how much I was hurting his feelings until he got angry- angrier than I'd ever seen him- and he packed his bags,' Alin shook his head, still not fully believing it even happened, 'that was the last I saw of him.'

'Sounds like you upset him badly,'

'I know!' wailed Alin, burying his face in his hands, 'I'm such an idiot!'

Lilli chuckled, covering her mouth politely. Alin raised his head, glaring at her.

'And what would be so funny?' he demanded.

'Well, yesterday your friend was looking all over for you when you were at home all along,' she explained, 'so maybe today you look all over for your friend and he's at home right now.'

'You think?' Alin stared at her hopefully.

Lilli shrugged, 'it's possible.'

'Great!' Alin stood up, glanced at Lilli and sat back down again.

'Aren't you going to find your lost friend? She asked.

'I will,' Alin shrugged, 'but I want to keep you company until your brother shows up. The least I can do after you helped me is make sure nothing bad happens to you.'

'I can look after myself,' Lilli sniffed.

'Yes but you can never be too careful, especially in a big empty park,' Alin shrugged, 'hey Lilli…'

'Yes?'

'Do you think I'm rude and annoying?'

'I don't know,' replied Lilli, 'I met you five minutes ago.'

'Ah, do you think my friend might've left because I'm always rude to him?'

'Maybe,' reasoned Lilli and Alin suspected- well, knew- she was just being polite. It was pretty clear why Tsvetan had left.

'You'll just have to be extra nice to him when you find him,' added Lilli, after seeing the look on his face.

'Of course,' Alin lit up, 'I'll make him a nice dinner and we can cuddle on the couch together and watch whatever he wants. We can crack jokes and sing, if it's a musical, and eat sweets and it'll be so much fun!'

'Sounds nice.'

'Lillian Zwingli!' cried a male voice, 'where the hell have you been?' a young man that could only be Lilli's brother ran towards them, starting uneasily at Alin.

'Sorry Vash, I got a bit lost so I waited where you told me to, but look,' Lilli gestured at Alin, 'I made a new friend!'

'I have told you time and time again not to talk to strange men!'

'You're a strange man and I always talk to you,' Lilli pointed out, 'besides, Alin's nice. And he lost his friend too!'

'Oh?'

'Yeah,' Alin piped up, 'have you seen a man- bit younger than me- from Eastern Europe, Bulgaria, to be exact, with black hair and green eyes? He's a bit scruffy-lookin' and this high,' he held his hand out, palm down, to demonstrate Tsvetan's height.

'No, sorry,' replied Lilli's brother, Vash, 'but I hope you find him.'

'Cheers,' Alin leaned back whilst Lilli jumped up and took her brother's hand. The pair began wandering deeper into the park, probably to continue their stroll.

'Goodbye and good luck!' she called back.

'See ya,' replied Alin, who stood up and began walking in the opposite direction, towards the gate and back home. After taking one last glance at the vast expanse of trees and flowers, Alin stuffed his gloved hands in his jacket pockets, hunching his shoulders in response to the chill.

…

'Tsve?' Alin poked his head round the door, scanning the apartment for any sign of his friend. Finding none, he sighed and walked in, plopping himself down on the couch. He should've known it was too much to hope Tsvetan would be there.

'Where could he be?' Alin asked the empty room, 'he's just having a sulk somewhere, that's all,' he told himself, daring to believe it, 'He'll be back when he's ready.'


	6. For Tsvetan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toni- Spain
> 
> Jan- Netherlands
> 
> Carlos- Cuba
> 
> Eva- Belgium
> 
> Franz- Kugelmugel

A whole week passed since Tsvetan had stormed out and each evening of coming home to an empty apartment saw Alin becoming increasingly troubled. He tried to bury his fear, telling himself that Tsvetan was just off sulking somewhere and would come home when he was ready and in a forgiving mood. But each day was becoming more and more of a struggle. How much longer could Alin keep lying to himself like this?

The Thursday after Tsvetan disappeared, Alin found himself getting up in the morning and praying today would be the day his friend came back. He had been gone far too long to simply brush off as 'off sulking somewhere', but Alin still clung to that tiny shred of hope. He decided that, after work, he could always ask around again. Or maybe make some posters to put up everywhere. Alin hoped Tsvetan hadn't been so upset he'd left the country altogether. He'd taken the only mobile phone they owned so they had no way of contacting each other without actually meeting. It also meant Alin couldn't call Tsvetan's family in Bulgaria to see if he was with them and, if not, to tell them he was missing.

Trying to ignore the feeling of helplessness inside him, Alin walked outside to begin another day's work.

…

Alin growled to himself, throwing a, somewhat cheap and tacky, bottle opener back into his new suitcase with its identical companions. He was not his cheery self today, thus was unable to grab shoppers' attentions. Every day he was selling less and less, his heart consumed by worry and loneliness, leaving no strength to engage with his audience. He's stopped bothering with magic completely.

'Hey, buddy,' Alin looked up to find Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, a jolly young Spanish man who lived in the same building as him and owned the bar he and Tsvetan sometimes visited, bounded over and slapped him on the back, 'why so glum chum?' he was wrapped in a warm coat and carried several brown parcels of groceries.

'Haven't you heard?' Alin raised an eyebrow.

'Heard what?' Antonio looked at the other man in confusion, 'if it's a big news story then no, our TV's broken.'

'Oh, well Tsve ran away,' Alin filled in, 'he's been gone for a week now and no one's heard from him.'

'Oh that's a massive shame,' Antonio sighed, 'I like the guy. Still, I'm sure he'll turn up. Was it last Monday night he left?'

'Yeah, how did you know?'

'We heard you two fighting,' Antonio clarified, 'the whole building did. Well, it just seemed to be Tsve yelling. Still freaked everyone out though. Jan and Carlos, you remember my roommate and little brother, right, started wresting and fighting because they were so bored of listening to you two. Jan's friend Sadik got involved, you know how much he loves a competition, and, well, long story short, someone put their foot through the TV.'

'Who did?' Alin found the little anecdote a mild, temporary distraction.

'Jan's little sister Eva,' Antonio chuckled, 'she got a bit sick of all the noise.'

'Hey I'm sure Mathew'll get you a new one,' reasoned Alin, 'the guy got loads of them.'

'True,' Antonio's smile fell, 'look, do you want me to do anything to find Tsve?'

'I don't think there's much you  _can_  do,' Alin shrugged, 'just… just keep an eye out for him, try to listen around too. I'm sure your bar gets loads of talk and rumours. Maybe you'll hear something.'

'No problem my friend,' replied Antonio, 'so what are  _you_  going to do?'

'I- I guess I could ask around at all his friends' houses again,' considered Alin, 'or put up posters saying 'if you see this man tell him I'm sorry signed Alin' or something like that.'

'Hmm,' Antonio scratched his chin, 'tell you what, I have an old friend- we go way back- who's pretty high up in society. Well, his wife has, err, connections, to people like us and much worse. Like really scary stuff. But she's well respected and might be, or know, the person you need.'

'Really?' Alin broke into a wide grin, the first one in days.

'Sure,' Antonio shrugged, 'worth a shot. How about I write her name and address for you?'

'That would be brilliant, thanks!'

'No problem,' Antonio took a small notebook, one he used to take orders for drinks at his bar, from his pocket and scribbled something down. He ripped the page out with a flourish and handed it to Alin, who snatched it and pressed the note to his face, attempting to decipher the untidy scrawl that was Antonio's handwriting. When he finally read the name, his heart sank.

'Why her?' he moaned.

'Old friend?' asked Antonio.

'Hardly,' Alin closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, 'of all people…'

'So what are you going to do? Still gonna give it a try?'

Alin didn't answer immediately. Finally, he sighed and held up the note, 'for Tsvetan,' he said.

…

Alin rapped sharply on the front door to a smart little detached house. He took the opportunity to gaze around the small front garden, taking in the rows of flowers, little white ones he didn't know the name of, and the occasional child's toy scattered on the lawn. Shrugging, he turned his attention to the door and knocked again.

'Please don't be in,' he muttered, but his wish was not granted.

'How may we help-' a young woman with long brown hair and sharp green eyes answered the door, beginning a friendly greeting, but stopping at once when she saw who was outside. She scowled at him, and tried to slam the door shut again but Alin wedged his foot in the doorway, preventing it from shutting in his face.

'Ah that hurt!' he hissed, then put on his friendliest fake expression, 'so, Lizzie, how are you?'

'It's Elizabeta,' the woman replied, 'and cut the crap. What do you want?'

'Right, err, I was told you were the one to talk to about a problem I've been having…'

'No,' barked Elizabeta, 'besides, I believe the last time we met I told you to stay out of my life forever and go jump off a cliff or something.'

'Since when do I listen to you?' scoffed Alin, 'look, I have a really bad problem and need you. This is something I can't go to the police for and everyone I know is unable to help so you're my only option. You know damn well I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important.'

'You're not borrowing any money from me,' Elizabeta warned.

'I don't want your damn money,' Alin groaned, 'I just need advice. And maybe a few names and contacts. It's really all down to what you advise.'

'And I advise you to get your foot out of my door before I break it, along with your ugly face.'

'Please,' he pleaded, 'I'm not here for me. I'm here for someone else.'

'Since when did you do anything for other people?' scoffed Elizabeta.

'Since now,' snapped Alin, who then sighed, 'look, I promise that if you help me this'll be the last time you see me, ever.'

'Tempting,' Elizabeta rubbed her chin, 'so all I have to do is give you some advice on whatever problem your 'friend' has and you'll be out of my life for good?'

'Pretty much, yes,' Alin rested his head against the doorframe, 'ah go on, for old time's sake!'

Elizabeta snorted, letting him in.

'Oh thank you!' Alin shook her hand furiously, 'I promise you won't regret this!'

'I already do,' muttered Elizabeta, 'oh, my husband and son are here. Roddy knows pretty much everything about my past, so you may talk freely if need be, but I would ask you keep your conversation clean and family friendly for the sake of Franz.'

'Fair enough,' Alin shrugged.

'We're just in the middle of dinner at the moment so could you make this qui-'

'Excellent,' Alin bounded into the dining room, 'I haven't eaten all day.'

'No, that's not what I-' Elizabeta groaned, following him. She found Alin sitting at the dining table with her husband, Roderich, and five year old son, Franz. He was sitting at her seat eating from the plate she'd put out for herself a moment before he'd knocked.

'Wow this is actually good,' he commented through a mouthful of vegetables and chicken, 'did you make this?'

'No, I did,' said Roderich, smiling politely, though his expression was strained with a hint of confusion.

'Thought so,' muttered Alin, 'it actually tastes nice,' he added, glaring at Elizabeta, who scowled and stormed into the kitchen to get a new plate for herself. She wondered if it was worth getting a life sentence, and traumatising her family, for beating Alin to death with the frying pan lying on the counter, but decided against it. Upon returning, she found Alin alternating between shoving forkfuls of food into his mouth and making stupid faces at Franz, who giggled loudly. Roderich, on the other hand, looked like he was about to faint.

'Hey the kid looks a bit like that Beilschmidt bloke you used to go out with,' Alin remarked as Elizabeta sat down.

'He has my eyes,' Roderich cut in, before Elizabeta could react. She was grateful for her husband for saying that. The frying pan in the kitchen seemed pretty tempting now.

'I see,' Alin squinted, staring at Franz closely, 'he's got your mole too.'

Roderich's lips tightened, unsure of how to reply.

'Alin here has a problem he wants me to help him with,' Elizabeta explained to Roderich, 'I promise he won't be staying long.'

'Course,' Alin grinned through a mouthful of food.

Franz laughed, 'you're funny, Uncle Alin!'

'No he isn't!' cried Elizabeta, 'and he's not your damn uncle!'

'Okay, but he is funny though. Comedy is art, remember?' Franz shrugged, shovelling the last few forkfuls of his dinner into his mouth before beaming at his parents, 'finished!'

'Great, now go outside and play while the adults talk for a bit.'

'Aww,' Franz groaned, but listened to his mother. He jumped down from his chair and picked up his plate, walking slowly towards the door. Before he left, Franz turned around, 'hey, can we keep Alin? Please say yes!'

'Certainly not,' exclaimed Elizabeta.

'Okay,' Franz sighed and walked out.

'So how do you know each other then?' enquired Roderich, making polite conversation whilst slowly stirring a cup of tea.

'Ah,' Alin leaned back in his chair, 'we used to be partners before we had a massive falling out. Jeez you should've seen it! There was blood up the walls, teeth getting knocked out, the lot!''

'P-partners?' spluttered Roderich.

'Work partners,' clarified Elizabeta, 'we did street performances together when we were younger. You remember, I told you about the singing and magic tricks I used to do to make a living.'

'I see.'

'Yeah we weren't, like, lovers-partners,' added Alin, 'oh no, jeez I wouldn't go near her with a ten-foot pole.'

Roderich's mouth opened and closed, but he said nothing.

'Why are you here?' demanded Elizabeta.

'I want to know if you've seen my buddy Tsvetan,' replied Alin.

'Who?'

'You know, Tsvetan. Oh wait, we met after you and me went our separate ways. Erm, he has dark hair, green eyes, slight tan but not too noticeable. He has a Bulgarian accent and can usually be seen singing. That man thinks he's Emil Dimitrov I swear!'

'No, I have no idea where your friend is,' sighed Elizabeta, 'I've never even met him. Must be a close friend, if you're going to so much trouble. What happened and where did you last see him?'

'We had a big fight, see, and he's been off sulking for a week now. I kinda missed him so I've been trying to find the guy. None of his mates have seen him either.'

'Tsvetan… Tsvetan…' Elizabeta rubbed her chin, 'that name rings a bell…'

'Yes?' Alin sat up and looked at her hopefully.

'Oh… oh sweetie,' Elizabeta shook her head and stared at Alin with a look of distress and pity.

'I hope I don't offend you by asking this,' began Roderich, staring at Alin with the same expression, 'but do you own a television set?'

'Course I do,' said Alin, 'got a cheap one off a pal of mine. We call him 'stolen-TV Mathew'.'

'And what sort of things do you watch?'

'Movies and sports, sometimes cooking shows too,' Alin shrugged, 'though I haven't even bothered since Tsve left, why?'

'No news programmes?'

'No,' Alin's eyes widened, 'oh god, what's happened?'

'It's best you see for yourself,' Elizabeta picked up a remote and changed the channel of a small TV on the wall above the fireplace, switching it to the 24 news channel where the day's soccer results were being shown.

'It might take a few minutes to show the story,' Elizabeta told him.

'What story?' cried Alin, 'what's happened?'

'Please, just trust me and wait.'

'Fine…' Alin stared blankly at the TV as meaningless stories flashed on the screen in front of him. After a few minutes, he heard something that made him feel sick to his core.

'-Police are still searching for the missing person who disappeared last Tuesday,' a grim-faced news reporter began speaking, almost glaring through the TV at them, 'Tsvetan Borisov, aged 22, went missing in the early hours of the morning and police were called after his backpack and trace amounts of blood were found by a passer-by on the sidewalk along with a smashed cell phone,' the screen changed to footage of police standing next to a taped-off area of an unfamiliar street, 'Both the blood and phone were later confirmed to belong to Mr Borisov,'

An image of Tsvetan, probably provided by Heracles or Katya, flashed on the screen. Alin recognised the photo as being from his twenty-first birthday party. His hair was neatly parted and he was smiling brightly over a glass of wine, his first legal drink. It was taken at a nightclub where he and all his friends had went for the evening and he had an arm, probably Alin's, wrapped around his shoulders.

'Mr Borisov,' continued the narrator, appearing on the screen once more, 'was born in Sofia, Bulgaria and moved to the U.S. when he was eighteen to finish his education, pursuing a career in Psychology. He dropped out of college in his second year and has been unemployed ever since. His family have been informed of his disappearance and are urging anyone to come forward with any information they have in regards to this event.'

'Friends of the young man have told police he'd left his home after a row at the time of his disappearance and his backpack was found to contain spare clothes, textbooks, money and his passport, confirming these reports.

'The police are now treating the case as a murder inquiry.'

Alin stared at the TV in numb shock long after the story finished. He couldn't believe what he had just heard, 'n-no,' he spluttered, 'it can't be true! Tsvetan is the least offending person I know; who would want to hurt him?'

'He could have had issues with someone you don't know about,' Elizabeta suggested, rubbing his back soothingly.

'No,' Alin shook his head, 'we tell each other everything. He never got into trouble. I was always the person to get on the wrong side of people.'

'Well maybe someone attacked him to get to you.'

'Then it's all my fault…' murmured Alin, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

'He could have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time,' reasoned Roderich.

'We're so sorry to hear about what happened to your friend,' added Elizabeta.

'What?' Alin shook his head dumbly, 'no! You're talking like he's dead!'

'But the reporter said-'

'He's wrong!' Alin jumped up and started backing towards the door, 'you're all wrong! Tsve isn't dead! He can't be; I need him!' and with that, he ran out of the house, blindly knocking over objects that got in his way in his haste to get away.

'Poor boy,' muttered Elizabeta.


	7. Motionless door

Alin took another large gulp at whatever the barman had handed to him and tried to process what he'd discovered, but failing.

How could Tsvetan be dead? It just wasn't possible. And even if he was still alive, what chance did Alin have of finding him? What was even happening to him right now? Was he in unimaginable pain? Was he being tortured? Beaten? Was he even still in the city or country? Alin didn't want to think of the terrible things that could be happening to Tsvetan whilst he sat in the warm, comfy club slumped over the bar trying to drown his sorrows. He couldn't even begin to think about how he was supposed to live without him. He just wouldn't be able to.

And what about his family? Though Alin hadn't met the people, they pretty much knew all about each other (minus Alin's dodgy activities) and were extremely fond of each other, treating him like another family member. Especially Tsvetan's grandma, who'd looked after Tsve and his siblings as children whilst their parents worked and loved him to bits. She was always sending knitted items to the pair of them and at the start of every winter the two young men always awoke to find parcels filled with woolly hats, scarves, jumpers, blankets and all sorts of things the old woman had spent all summer knitting ever since Tsve had mentioned in a letter how much colder it was in America during the winter. Alin had even spoken to her on the phone, even if he couldn't understand her mix of English, Bulgarian, and the occasional Romanian word, very well.

He remembered one fond memory that started when he came home one day to find Tsvetan, who was still in collage at the time, being yelled at over the phone by his grandma. She wasn't extremely angry with him; just annoyed in a fond, sort of grandma-rant way. She was yelling at him for not having a girlfriend or wife yet and that it was his duty, as the oldest grandchild, to provide her with great-grand children before she died to dote on. He'd been trying to explain that he didn't want to be a father yet, and from what Alin understood, didn't want a girlfriend or wife, ever, but it seemed to be falling on deaf ears. Alin remembered laughing at his friend's distress, then taking the phone off him and offering to marry him instead, for a laugh, even if he was the only one to see the comedy in it. Much to the surprise of everyone present, she agreed and started making plans for the wedding, arranging to fly over there and asked Alin to get his family to do the same thing! He managed to get a word in half way through her plans for them to adopt and explain he was joking. He was surprised that she still liked him after that incident, but the old lady took it in her stride.

She must be devastated now. Of course she would! She still imagined Tsvetan as the small child who followed her around smiling happily. He could just imagine her, sitting at her kitchen table with her son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren. She would probably be holding an unfinished blanket or letter for Tsvetan, one she'd never be sending.

'I suppose you saw on the news then,' Ivan, the owner of the club, slid over and sat next to him.

'It's unbelievable,' Alin shook his head, 'how could anyone do anything like that to Tsve. What had he done to deserve it?'

'From what I hear he was beaten up and dragged into a car,' Ivan told him, 'at least that's what the police are saying.'

'What?' Alin whimpered, 'who could do such a thing?'

'In all honestly,' Ivan looked him dead in the eye, 'there are rumours going around that it was you. Your fight was pretty suspicious, according to some people, and his murder was either an act of revenge or to silence him for something. Some of the staff here weren't too happy about me letting you in the club tonight.'

'It's not true,' gasped Alin, 'you have to believe me it's not true!'

'Don't worry,' Ivan winked, 'I told them you were innocent. Besides, seeing you in this state, I can't believe for a second that you're a killer. That and you don't even have a car.'

'Thanks,' Alin sighed, 'I know it's bad, being in a club like this so soon after finding out but…'

'Can't bring yourself to go home?' offered Ivan.

'That's it! How can I go there? Everything will remind me of him. Where he used to sit, all his books- where he'd folded down the pages to mark where he'd got up to- and his smell,' Alin shook his head, 'if only I could spend the rest of my life drunk, and not have to face the pain of losing him.'

'You'll have to face it some day, my tiny friend.'

'I know, but I don't know how to,' Alin buried his face in his hands.

He looked up, glancing around. Ivan's nightclub was old-fashioned and classy, with small tables dotted about and a stage in the middle, which contained a grand piano and two young men, one playing, one singing. Nearby, two girls sat at a table, watching them perform and cheering, well, one was cheering, the other looked a bit bored.

'Do Toris and Ed have to play such miserable music?' he whined.

'It's not miserable, just slow,' Ivan pointed out, 'it's to set the mood.'

'Sure…'

'Hit us again, Francis,' Ivan called to the barman, who nodded and filled their glasses with a clear liquid, smiling sympathetically at Alin, who just scowled. He didn't need Francis' sympathy;  _Tsvetan_  was the one who needed sympathy, and mourning.

'Don't glare at me like that,' Francis sighed, 'we all miss him. Look, do you want to stay with Ivan or myself for a few days, until to get yourself together a bit. Loosing someone is hard… but we'll be there for you, okay?'

'Thanks Frankie,' Francis' eye twitched at the nickname, but he didn't comment on it, 'I really appreciate everything but… I need some time on my own. You know, to…'

'Grieve in peace?'

'Yeah…' Alin sighed and stood up, knocking his drink back and staggering slightly, 'well, no point in putting off the inevitable, I bid you both good day.'

'Take care of yourself,' said Ivan, 'please don't do anything stupid, you know Tsvetan would want you not to.'

'Course…'

…

Alin sat on the steps in the darkened hall outside his apartment, not having the resolve to go inside and start a new life without Tsvetan. Instead, he just sat there, staring at the stationary front door below, wishing with all his heart that Tsvetan would just walk through it. Such a simple action, but one he'd never do again. The last time he ever saw Tsvetan, he'd left through that door, full of anger and misery, let down by the one person he trusted most. So different from the first time they'd met, in the same spot, all those years ago.

*One morning, several years earlier*

Tsvetan rang the buzzer then stood, nervously hopping from one foot to the other, straining his neck as he looked up at the building before him. It was tall, and slightly run down, but homely-looking, and Tsvetan hoped he'd be accepted. He took the ad he'd cut out of a newspaper out of his coat pocket to read over again, shifting the strap on his backpack. Yes, he definitely had the right address.

The door opened and he came face to face with a grinning young man a few years older than he was. The man was dressed casually, in a long-sleeved purple t-shirt and scruffy jeans. His hair was scruffy too, covering his ears and nearly covering his reddish-brown eyes.

'Are you Mr… Radacanu?' asked Tsvetan, reading the name from the advert.

'Yup, please call me Alin though, Al and Ali are acceptable names too,' Alin grinned, 'so what can I do for you?'

'Uh,' Tsvetan began, 'I'm here about the ad, you know… for the roommate thing.'

'Ah, another contestant vying for a place by my side,' Alin leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow, 'so tell me, what makes you think you're worthy of staying here?'

'What?' asked Tsvetan, 'I don't know? Erm, well if you let me stay I'll pay half the rent.'

There was a slight pause before Alin spoke again, 'fair enough; come inside.'

'Thanks,' Tsvetan grabbed the handle of the small, wheeled, suitcase that stood next to him and went to step inside.

'Hold on a sec,' Alin held out a hand to stop him and sniffed Tsvetan.

'What was that for?' the man cried.

'Well, if there's a chance that we're gonna be living together and being around each other all the time,' reasoned Alin, 'then I at least want you to smell decent.'

'And do I?'

'Could be better, I have to admit,' Alin shrugged, 'still an improvement on the last guy, though; he smelt of fried onions and processed cheese. Oh by the way, what's your name?'

'Tsvetan Borisov.'

'Well, Tsvet, shall I show you to you potential new home?' Alin offered, walking across the hall to the stairs, kicking up dust covering the dark red carpet.

'That would be nice,' Tsvetan made to follow him, but tripped on the frayed welcome mat he'd not seen, he yelped and almost fell flat on his face but Alin caught him just in time, holding him almost bridal-style.

'Hey you okay mate?' he asked.

'What are you doing Alin?' a man who appeared to be in his late forties walked in through the front door and over to an apartment on the ground floor, laughing and shaking his head, 'no wonder you scare away all your applicants.'

'He tripped; I caught him, Mr Vargas' Alin shrugged, setting Tsvetan down, 'no harm, right Tsve?'

'Sure,' Tsvetan dusted himself down and smiled politely at Mr Vargas, who cheerily waved back before entering his own apartment.

'Ah old man Vargas is a nice man,' Alin grinned, 'lives with his three grandsons. If you need anything and I'm not around, feel free to ask them.'

'Really?'

'Yeah, well, lets go see the place then,' Alin began walking up the stairs, 'try not to fall over on your way up.'

'Hey it was a one time thing! Just lost my balance, been a bit tired lately,' Tsvetan picked up his suitcase and began carrying up the stairs.

'You're eager,' Alin raised an eyebrow, eyes on the case, 'you know you're not moving in today, even if you get the place.'

'Well, I kinda have to carry my stuff around now,' Tsvetan averted his eyes.

'You're… homeless?'

'Yeah, been sleeping under a bridge for the past week,' replied Tsvetan.

'Oh, what happened to your old place?' Alin took the suitcase and carried it up the stairs for him, 'here, let me help you.'

'Cheers, well, I had to leave,' explained Tsvetan, 'my old roommate was… shall we say… unpleasant. He kept mocking me, for lots of things, and every time his friends came over they'd be horrible too and… well, I don't really want to talk about it. Let's just say things got a little scary and I thought it would be best to get the hell out.'

'You poor thing,' soothed Alin, 'well, I promise I'll be a lovely roommate! You know, if you're accepted.'

'Thanks,'

'So, here it is,' when they reached the top floor, Alin strode through an open doorway into a disorganized living room, setting the suitcase down by the door 'sorry bout the mess.'

'Hey, I'm a college student; I've seen far worse,' joked Tsvetan.

'You're in college? What are you studying?'

'Psychology,' Tsvetan beamed proudly, 'it's one of my passions.'

'The others being…?'

'Singing and baking.'

Alin's lips thinned, but he said nothing.

'Yeah, I know it's kinda girly sounding-'

'Not that,' interrupted Alin, 'it's just, we don't do cooking here. Don't touch the oven, ever.'

'Why?'

'Because I said so,' growled Alin, then his face softened at Tsvetan's fearful expression, 'sorry, I didn't mean to come off all aggressive; I promise I'm not like that really. Look, trust me when I say it's better to order food, or eat cold stuff.'

'Fine, I can live with that,' Tsvetan shrugged, taking off his backpack, 'so where's my room?'

'Right this way,' Alin opened one of a pair of doors next to each other. Tsvetan jogged over and peered in to find a tiny room with a single bed shoved against the opposite wall with a battered wardrobe and bedside table making up the furniture. The whole room was filled with filled bin bags and cardboard boxes.

'Ah, sorry about the clutter,' Alin looked at Tsvetan apologetically, 'I promise to have it cleared away before you move in, err, if your application is successful.'

'Course,' Tsvetan had one last glance around the room before exploring the rest of the flat, which really was just the main room, a tiny bathroom and Alin's room, which was 'closed to the public' apparently.

'So that's about it,' concluded Alin, clapping his hands, 'any questions?'

'Well, I wouldn't mind knowing what you do for a living,' Tsvetan shrugged, 'just curious.'

Alin chuckled, slapping Tsve on the back, 'plenty of time for that later.'

'I see,' Tsvetan sighed, 'well, I guess that's about it, right?'

'Sure, I plan to inform the successful applicant on Monday, so look out for that,' Alin began showing Tsvetan to the door, 'I mean, I don't have a phone and you don't have an address to write to or anything, but I'll think of something.'

'Okay, well I await your… whatever, with great anticipation,' Tsvetan grinned, picking up his backpack and suitcase, 'see ya then.'

Alin stared at Tsvetan as he began to leave, lip quivering. The poor kid looked so pitiable it made his heart pang.

'Hey, wait!'

Tsvetan turned around and looked at him curiously.

'You got the place!' Alin threw his arms in the air, 'congratulations!'

'Really? I thought you had other people coming to see it.'

'Yeah, doubt it,' Alin shrugged, 'so what do you say, roomie?' he held out his hand, smiling hopefully.

'Why not,' Tsvetan shrugged and shook his hand, 'thanks for letting me stay.'

…

Alin shook the memory out of his head, and stood up, stumbling slightly. Tsvetan would never walk through that door again and Alin would just have to accept that, no matter how hard that would be. He fumbled with his keys, having to attempt putting the key in the lock three times before finally succeeding. Before opening the door, he rested his forehead against it, letting out a cry of grief before finally stumbling in.

He'd still had that tiny shred of hope, that Tsvetan and everyone else was just playing a massive prank on him and that his best friend was waiting just inside, ready to yell 'surprise!' and jokingly scold him for being an ass. Then Alin would promise to always listen to and respect him, and honestly mean it, and then they'd curl up on the couch and eat, watching movies like old times. But those hopes were crushed when he opened the door to his empty apartment, same as he'd left it, but with one small change…

Alin tried to focus his eyes on it, and when he eventually saw what it was, sobered almost immediately.

'Oh god, no, don't let it be what I think it… oh Tsve… I'm so sorry.'

…


	8. So we stole from you

Early next morning, Alin pounded on the door of a familiar little house with a neat garden and he continued knocking frantically even after he heard footsteps in the hall on the other side. On this occasion, there was no time for admiring the little white flowers, or the children's toys scattered about the lawn.

'Lizzie… Lizzie… LizzieLizzieLizzieLizzie,'

'It's Elizabeta to you,' the door was thrown open and Alin came face to face with a very angry Elizabeta. But then again, anyone woken up at six o clock in the morning was bound to be very angry.

'Oh thank goodness you answered!' he cried.

'I thought you said I wouldn't see you again,' demanded Elizabeta, 'it's only been one day!'

'Yeah well,' Alin shrugged, 'circumstances have arisen that require your assistance.'

'I see. Do you want to come in?' asked Elizabeta stiffly.

'No, no,' replied Alin, 'no need for that. Look, I know we hate each other and you're the most annoying bitch in the world-'

'If you hate me so much why are you here?'

Alin looked at her pleadingly, 'because I'm scared and I need help.' He pulled something out of his pocket; something dark stored in a see-through plastic wallet, and handed it to her, 'a lock of Tsvetan's hair. I found it on my table last night along with this,' he handed her a crumpled up piece of paper.

''You stole from us so we stole from you,'' Elizabeta raised an eyebrow; 'Tsvetan was abducted because of something you did?' she glared accusingly at Alin, whose face crumpled, nodding.

'I know,' he cried, 'it really is all my fault that I won't see him again!'

'Don't say that!' exclaimed Elizabeta, 'we can still get him back.'

'Really?' Ali dared to believe her, 'how?'

'I don't know,' Elizabeta admitted, 'have you thought of going to the police?'

Alin shook his head, 'that'd be impossible. The moment I walk in a police station that'll be the end. They're probably only broadcasting Tsvetan's disappearance as a ploy to get me arrested or something. Seriously, why else would they be so concerned about a missing, unemployed immigrant? If I get arrested, who will be left to help Tsve? No one!'

'Okay, so that's a big no no,' Elizabeta thought for a moment, 'don't worry, we'll think of something. Do you know who could've done it?'

Alin nodded, 'turn the paper over.'

Elizabeta obeyed and turned the note over to find a symbol, 'it's a… rabbit and…'

'A troll,' Alin finished, 'the sign of Jensen and Kirkland.'

'Who?'

'Some old acquaintances of mine,' explained Alin, 'that symbol used to contain a creature of my choice too, a bat, to be precise. We used to work together, before you and I had our episode, doing street magic and getting into all sorts of trouble with the law. I cheated them out of some money and kinda legged it before they could find out. I guess I should also admit to sleeping with the both of them, around the same time, without the other knowing.'

'Alin you stupid little prick!' groaned Elizabeta, 'well, at least we know who done it. And as you're so insistent on not involving the police, you have no choice but to talk with them and pay back the money you stole.'

'I can't,' Alin waved his arms in frustration, 'Jensen and Kirkland are impossible to talk to! Trust me when I say they're seriously twisted people. Take that note, for example…'

'It's just a taunt,' Elizabeta ran her eyes over the message again.

'Yes but what's it written in?' pressed Alin.

'Ink? Like everything else.'

'Look closer,'

Elizabeta did so and an expression of absolute horror appeared across her face, 'it's… it's…' she covered her mouth with a hand.

'It's blood,' Alin could feel he was starting to panic the more he dwelled on it.

'Yes, that's really sick,' agreed Elizabeta, 'but since when were you so fazed by a smidgen of blood?'

'It's not just any old blood,' a haunted look came across Alin's face, 'it's Tsvetan's.'

'How can you be so sure?' scoffed Elizabeta.

'I just know, okay?' Alin was close to tears now, 'it means he's dead. Or in such a state that he'd be better off if he  _was_  dead!'

'We don't know that,' insisted Elizabeta, 'look, maybe you could just arrange negotiations with these people, or just tell the police what you know.'

'I can't do either! I've already said!'

'Well how about this,' Elizabeta folded her arms, 'I have a cousin who might be able to help you. Do you want me to arrange an appointment with him? Tino knows everything about… these kinds of people and you could always pay him to… take care of them.'

'I don't need a babysitter for them!' cried Alin, 'I need a… oh, you're talking about an assassin, right?'

'Yes.'

'Hmm,' Alin scratched his chin, 'do you think your cousin will be able to succeed without Tsve getting hurt?'

'I know he will.'

'Well, what harm could it do?' Alin shrugged, 'sure, could you arrange a meeting then?'

'I'll do my best,' Elizabeta assured him, 'do you have a phone I can contact you with?'

Alin shook his head, 'don't own one, too risky for the police to trace so I don't bother with one. Tell you what, I know your other cousin, Eduard. You still keep in touch with him?'

'Course,'

'Well tell him to find me when you have any information,' Alin gave a hopeful smile, 'I… have to say, and it pains me to do so, but, thank you, Lizzie. Without you I wouldn't have a hope of getting Tsve back.'

 


	9. I'll bring the bullets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tino- Finland
> 
> Berwald- Sweden
> 
> Peter- Sealand
> 
> Lars- Ladonia

Alin couldn't help but gulp as he stared at the dingy little building in front of him. It appeared to be three office businesses piled on top of each other, taking up one floor each. Next to the door were three labelled buttons to allow visitors to buzz themselves in: a dentist's and a publishing company, but Alin pressed the top button, the one simply labelled 'Väinämöinen'.

He took a few steps backwards and tired to stop himself fidgeting as he waited for an answer. It was Sunday morning, almost three days after first discovering the twisted note. Was that all? Then again, time tends to pass slower when you're too afraid to sleep at night. Too afraid of everything. But today brought a shred of hope to Alin, along with a sense of unease, ever since he awoke to find a message from Eduard Von Brock, who had slid it under his door, to say that Tino Väinämöinen, another cousin of hers, was prepared to meet with him later that morning at a given address, this address. He felt torn between giddy excitement and agonizing worry. Yes, he was that bit closer to finding Tsvetan, in whatever condition he was in, again, but on the other hand, Tino was a trained killer, and he was about to get two new targets. Alin didn't want to admit it, but the thought of death, even of people who he'd hadn't seen in years, and hated, scared him. The idea of Tsvetan's death scared him most of all though, and that was what gave him the strength to do this.

After a couple of minutes spent tensely standing in front of the building, he heard footsteps and the door opened to reveal the most terrifying man Alin had ever seen. He was around six feet tall with piercing teal eyes that glared at him through wire glasses, and a long navy-blue trench coat added to the intimidating image. Alin couldn't help but let out a little squeak.

'Um, hello?' he tried. The man didn't reply so he just continued, 'erm, I believe you're expecting me.'

'Name?' his voice seemed to match his face, and was heavily accented.

'Alin Radacanu,' Alin answered, 'Elizabeta sent me.'

'C'me with me,' the man turned around and walked across the hall, footsteps surprisingly quiet despite the tiled floor. Alin followed him up two flights of stairs to a wooden door with a little bronze plaque, bearing the name 'Mr Väinämöinen'. The man knocked sharply.

'Come in,' a voice called sweetly. The man opened the door and ushered Alin inside, shutting it quickly. The office he found himself in was small and run down, with just a mess of books and files shoved onto shelves lining the wall and a desk standing in the middle of the room with a window, blinds pulled down, behind it. A young man sat in an office chair in deep conversation with, much to Alin's surprise, two little boys no older than five years of age. The man, whom Alin assumed to be Mr Väinämöinen, noticed the new arrivals and smiled warmly.

'A Mr Radacanu to see you,' said the man who'd shown Alin in.

'Ah, yes, thank you Berwald.' Berwald walked over and allowed Mr Väinämöinen to kiss him on the cheek, 'that'll be all dearest.' Berwald nodded and walked out of the room. 'Now kids,' Mr Väinämöinen turned to the two boys, 'go with Papa Berwald please.'

'But-'

'Peter, Lars, daddy needs to talk business with the nice man.'

'Okay,' the two boys jumped off the desk and ran to catch up with Berwald, leaving Alin to study the hit-man closely.

Mr Väinämöinen did not look capable of tracking down and killing anyone. Fine blond hair tumbled down his face, almost covering his lilac eyes. He looked young, with his full, rosy cheeks and bright smile, and Alin couldn't help letting out a snort.

'You're an assassin?' he scoffed, 'you look no older than fifteen! Maybe I could take you seriously when you actually hit puberty! I mean it; call me back when your voice breaks you foetus! What do you use to get people anyway, a water pistol?'

'No,' Tino's smile widened and he drew a revolver out of his inside blazer pocket, 'I use this.' He aimed the gun at Alin, who threw himself flat on the floor. He heard the crack of a gunshot, the splintering of wood and cried out in fear. When no other sounds followed, Alin dared to lift his head up and found Mr Väinämöinen standing behind his desk, pointing the gun straight at him. His smile was gone now.

'That was just a warning,' he growled, 'don't mock me again.'

The door flew open and Berwald ran in, glancing from Mr Väinämöinen, leaning on his desk, breathing heavily and snarling, to Alin, lying on the floor covering his head with his arms, trembling. Alin swore he saw a hint of worry when Berwald looked at Tino, waiting for the latter to say something.

'T'no?' he asked, his expression back to giving no emotion, his voice a different story altogether.

'Nothing to worry about,' Tino's smile was back, 'just clearing something up.' Berwald nodded and left again. 'So,' Tino looked down at Alin again, 'shall we start over?'

Alin nodded, whimpering.

'Take a seat,' Tino sat back down and looked at Alin with interest, gesturing to the plastic chair in front of the desk. The young man obeyed, standing up slowly, cautiously, and walked over to the chair. He spared a glance at the door behind him; the fresh bullet hole glared back at him, standing where his head had been mere moments earlier.

'So how are you today, Mr Radacanu?' asked Tino politely. Alin, thrown somewhat off guard by his sudden friendliness, struggled to form an answer.

'Uh, okay… I guess,' he shrugged, 'you don't have to call me Mr Radacanu, if you don't want. Alin's fine.'

'And likewise, Alin, feel free to call me Tino.'

'Course,' Alin grinned nervously, then frowned as a thought struck him, 'sorry, don't wanna seem rude or anything but… you take your kids to work with you? I'm not trying to offend you- trust me, that's the last thing I want- I'm just curious.'

'Of course! That seems like a reasonable question,' replied Tino, 'I know it's odd, but it's the weekend and since both Berwald and I spend our whole day here, we have to take them with us.'

'Oh, okay…'

'But enough of the small talk,' Tino waved a hand dismissively, 'down to business. My dear cousin Eli tells me you need someone taken care of.' There was a malicious edge in the last three words and Alin gulped before nodding.

'Y-yes, well, two people actually, if that's oh-okay,' Alin could feel himself tripping over his words, 'Lizzie tells me you do that sort of thing.'

'For the right price,' Tino leaned back in his chair, 'you bring the cash; I bring the bullets.'

'O-of course,' Alin frowned, I can probably raise the money.'

''Probably' is not good enough, but we can discuss that later,' Tino sat up, his lilac eyes boring into Alin's burgundy ones, 'right now I'm more interested in who you want done in. Do you have any photographs of the targets? An address, maybe?'

'No,' Alin admitted, 'but I have names and descriptions!'

'That'll do,' Tino shrugged, 'so who are they?'

'Aleksander Jensen and Rose Kirkland,'

Tino's smile fell, 'oh no,' he said, 'I can't do that. Aleks and Rose are good friends and have my protection.'

'What?' gasped Alin, 'no way.'

'Aleksander is an old friend of Berwald's and I have custody of Rose Kirkland's son, Peter, as her… lifestyle was apparently unsuitable for raising a child. Not that I mind, Berwald and I are very fond of children and we already had Lars so another little one was hardly a strain.'

Alin wondered what on earth Rose would be doing that required her to hand her child over to a hit man. Oh yeah, she seemed to be occupying her time by abducting people and doing all sorts of appalling things. At least Tino never brought his work home with him, probably.

Wait, son? Oh no…

'And, err, how old is little Peter?' he asked uneasily.

'Three,' Tino explained, 'the little cutie's already in a nursery group.'

'Oh thank goodness,' Alin sighed in relief, 'Rose and I haven't seen each other in five years,' he explained.

'You are asking me to take out an ex-lover?' Tino raised an eyebrow in a judging manner, 'still, not like that hasn't happened before. People have asked me to get rid of all sorts of family members.'

'I don't know how much Lizzie has told you,' began Alin, 'but they've taken my best friend, are hurting him and taunt me with sick messages,' he pulled the lock of hair and bloody note, which he always kept close to him, out of his jacket pocket and tossed them onto the desk. Tino eyed the piece of paper curiously and picked it up.

''You stole from us so we stole from you'?' Tino glared at Alin.

'I know!' the boy wailed, 'Tsvetan means the world to me now they've taken him away and it's all my fault!'

'It is,' agreed Tino, 'but maybe you can atone for your mistakes yet. Eli told me you stole some money from them. Maybe I could get in touch with Aleks and Rose to arrange a meeting between you and you can pay back the money.'

'But they're not the sort of people who take too kindly to being cheated, or being owed,' protested Alin, 'that's what they do. They lend people money, wait a few years to lull them into false security, then they chase them up and demand repayment. With interest. Impossible-to-pay interest. If a person can't pay, and they usually can't, they're made to pay with flesh! I know, I used to be one of them and now I have to live knowing my teenage years were spent hurting people. Why do you think I got out when I did? I was scared! Oh god,' Alin ran his fingers through his hair, 'they've probably known where I was all along! The pair of them were just skulking in the shadows, watching, waiting for an opportunity to strike. I knew I should've changed my name when I left…'

'I see,' Tino sighed resting his hands in his chin, 'the thing is, I really want to help you. You seem like a genuinely nice guy, even if you don't know when to shut up, and I admire the lengths you're going to for your friend.'

'Well, he's more than my friend,' corrected Alin.

Tino's eyebrows shot up, 'I see…'

'No, not in that way,' Alin chuckled, 'I meant like best friends. You know, really close friends.'

'Indeed…' Tino gave a small smile, 'I understand. The thought that someone you care for is in danger is the worst feeling in the world. If anyone laid a finger on Berwald or my boys, I'd put so many bullets in them they'd be more lead than flesh. Are you sure you will not reconsider a meeting? I'm sure all Jensen and Kirkland want is their money back. Even they wouldn't want to see an innocent man murdered.'

Alin didn't feel like pointing out that he'd probably never make it out of a meeting with them alive but his own life wasn't important now. Getting Tsvetan back was. Besides, everyone said that it was always better to try and fail than not try at all, so he might as well give it a go. What had he got to lose?

'If it's no trouble,' he began, 'then maybe I could meet up with them to discuss matters. You can get in touch with them?'

'Of course,' Tino chirped, 'I'll ask them what day and time would suit, I'm sure you don't have any plans, right? I'll get little Eddy Von Brock to deliver the details. Nice to see you're thinking rationally now.'

 _Rationally?_  Alin scoffed silently _, I haven't had a rational thought in years._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So are you enjoying the story so far? Now, I know it's probably a bit odd using Nyo!England instead of regular England, but I've never written her before and I wanted to try something new (besides, she's awesome and beautiful and probably really sassy). And I also want to apologise to England and Norway fans for making the characters the antagonists. But I promise not to make them crappy and 2-dimensional. Like with my other stories, I'm going to actually try to make my baddies more believable, and less painful to read.


	10. Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for descriptions of blood and injury in this chapter.

Four days since his encounter with Tino the assassin, Alin found himself once more searching for an address scrawled on a note once again delivered by 'little Eddy' early in the morning. This street was tremendously different from the last one, in that it was residential, and extremely wealthy. All around him stood large, beautiful, houses partially hidden by iron gates, hedgerows and white, stone walls, and Alin couldn't help but feel out of place in his old jacket, fingerless gloves and scruffy jeans. Around him, families with children too young for school, and couples ambled past, talking excitedly of spring.

Of course, the crisp, morning air and flowers peering out of flower beds after a long winter's sleep did indeed signal the arrival of a new season, a new year and, hopefully, a new life. Alin felt it was almost cliché-like in its relevance. After today he would almost certainly be starting a new life, with or without Tsvetan beside him.

On the other hand, he was going far too deep into his past for his future to even feel relevant in any way, yet the lives of both him and Tsvetan depended on how this meeting went. What were Aleksander and Rose like now? Had they found their moral compass? Alin doubted that; he just prayed they hadn't gotten any crueller.

They had seemed such nice people when he first met them, a teen just out of high school and between homes, unable to keep a stable job and resorting to more illegal methods to make sure he stayed fed. They were all around the same age, and little Rose and Aleks seemed to have been dealt a rough hand too. The trio had an unspoken rule of never mentioning their pasts, and Alin wished he'd had the sense to challenge that. Sure, he knew from hints and dark expressions that they were angry at their lives, but he never realised just how much they wanted the world to suffer as they had.

Of course, back then he was the same. He hated his life, all alone in a strange country away from his parents and little brother, being forced to deal with stolen items and even being a robber himself at times. But he had his silly little magic tricks to keep him entertained, to keep him from completely losing it. And later, Tsvetan using him as a test-subject for his psychology work- psychoanalysis, he called it- helped Alin get to the root of his problems and begin to work them out. Aleksander and Rose had none of that, and probably still thought they were right to hurt people. Why should others be happy when they were not?

Alin ran his eyes over the note once more. If Tino was right, their house should be a few feet in front of him. His pace quickened to a jog and, sure enough, he came to a large iron gate with a plaque bearing the same address as the message. Underneath the plaque was a button and speaker. Hand shaking, Alin pressed the button to ring the doorbell and notify them of his arrival. A few seconds later, the speaker crackled to life and the smooth, calm voice of Aleksander Jensen greeted his ears.

'Hello, how may we help you?'

Alin suppressed a shudder and leaned forward, 'H-hey, I believe you're e-expecting me.'

'Alin! You're right on time,' replied Aleksander.

'Well you don't have to sound so surprised,' muttered Alin; then he leaned in closer and added, louder, 'Tino said he'd arrange a meeting.'

'Ah yes, how is he? Such a sweet boy. Is his family well?'

'Err, fine, I think,' Alin frowned, 'can I come in? I think it's best to get on with this, right?'

'Are you in any position to be giving orders, Radacanu? I think not,'

'Understood,' Alin waited for a few moments then the gate opened automatically. Fancy. Alin let out an impressed whistle as he walked past, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked down the garden path. He looked up at the house, squinting his eyes to see in through the windows. He wondered which room Tsvetan was in, if he was staring back and waving, or if he was unable to even stand up or see.

He walked up the steps and waited at the front door, wondering if he should knock. His question was answered by the door opening and he came face to face with-

'Natalya?' Alin gasped, 'what are you doing here?' Natalya Braginskaya, Ivan's little sister, was a glum-looking girl in her late teens, and seemed just as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

'What are _you_  doing here?' she hissed.

'I asked first!'

'Fine,' Natalya shut the door quietly, stepping out onto the porch, 'my brother got into trouble with money he borrowed years ago and well… long story short, I had been- still am- in a relationship with a certain Aleksander and he gave me a choice: either I work for him and his partner here or they track down Vanya and kill him.'

'Oh… oh Natalya,' Alin stopped himself from running over to the girl and pulling her into a hug. It would only be met by anger.

'And what about you?'

'They're keeping Tsvetan here,' replied Alin.

'I know; I've seen him.'

'And?' Alin stepped forward, shaking in anticipation, 'is he okay?'

'He's… alive,' Natalya chose her words carefully, 'but-'

'Natalya! Where's our guest?' called a female voice from inside.

'Right here,' Natalya called back, 'coming!' she grabbed Alin's arm and dragged him inside into a magnificent hall, dominated by a huge staircase. There were doors either side, all closed, and the only source of light, now that Natalya had closed the front door, was coming from a dim chandelier, the curtains having been drawn closed.

''But' what?' hissed Alin, 'what have they done to Tsve?'

'Not now,' Natalya whispered back, 'I'm sure you'll find out.'

'Find out what?'

Natalya shushed him and dragged him into a large dining room. The curtains were also drawn here, the room lit only by the candelabras on the grand dining table, a heavy mahogany thing filled with plates of rich food. A large duck sat in the middle, surrounded by roast potatoes, steaming vegetables, hams, fish, sauces and a manner of all things. At one end of the table, sat Aleksander Jensen, who leaned back in his large, cushioned, chair and stared at him, expression giving nothing away. He wore a dark blue and black evening suit, and in one hand was a glass of red wine.

Across from him, Rose Kirkland was sitting up straight and regarding the new arrival with interest. She looked beautiful, as always, in a baby-blue dress that glistened in the dim light, neck and ears dripping with diamonds. Sparkling green eyes stared up at him from behind designer glasses and her blonde hair was pulled back, held in a bun by more glittering jewellery.

'Well look at you,' she purred, 'do you see this, Aleks? Our little Allie's all grown up.'

'You're not looking so bad yourself,' Alin grinned nervously.

'Please, be seated,' Aleksander gestured to an empty chair, equal distance from the two sitting at the end. Alin nodded, and sat. The chair was comfortable, and, under any other circumstance, Alin would've gone on for ages about how he wanted to sit here forever, but he remained silent.

'That'll be all, Natalya,' said Rose.

'Of course,' Natalya nodded and left the room. Alin wanted to call her back; her presence was strangely comforting and he almost felt like he had an ally in this hellhole. But of course, if it came down to it, Natalya's loyalty to her brother would mean she'd do anything for Jensen and Kirkland, not an almost compete stranger she didn't even like.

'So,' Aleksander leaned forward, setting his glass wine down, 'what do you think of our new place? You seemed pretty keen on this city, so we thought we'd check it out too. Decent neighbourhood, probably a little different to the area you settled in though.'

'Ye-yeah, I really liked what you did with the… lights,' Alin looked around nervously. Why didn't they just cut to the chase?

'We're so looking forward to catching up,' Rose gave a small smile; 'it's been too long since our last meeting. So… still a piss-artist who flogs hooky crap?'

'No I am not,' growled Alin, 'well, maybe but look; you know damn well why I'm here. Aren't we gonna discuss that?'

'Yes, but first we're having lunch,' Aleksander gestured to the food in front of him; 'Natalya and I worked tirelessly to make all of this for you. Now help yourself. There will be plenty of time to talk afterwards.'

Alin's lips tightened, but he didn't argue. They were doing it deliberately, to torture him with suspense. They knew all he wanted to do was talk about Tsvetan and were dragging out the process for no reason. He loaded his plate, still glaring at Aleksander, and took a bite of fish. It melted in his mouth, so full of wonderful flavour and texture, and he quickly shovelled another forkful into his mouth. For the past week, he'd been too nervous to eat properly and Alin thought he might as well take advantage of their hospitality… wait…

Alin's eyes widened and he spat the fish out, glaring savagely at Aleksander. 'Okay,' he snarled, 'why aren't you two eating? What did you put in this?'

'Nothing and that's the truth,' stated Rose, delicately placing a forkful of duck in her own mouth, 'oh that's lovely Aleks. Bravo.'

'What reason would we have to spike your food?' asked Aleksander.

'Well there are a fair few-'

'You're no used to us unconscious or stoned,' Aleksander cut in, 'so just relax, and eat.'

Alin waited a few more moments, eyeing the other two whilst they ate. Deciding he was safe, he took a bite out of the ham, and the three ate in silence. Occasionally, Rose would ask him about his life and Alin would be forced to give a reply, between wolfing down the meal.

'No point in rushing,' chided Rose, 'we all have to finish before we move on to the matter at hand.'

'Understood,' Alin slowed down his pace, eventually losing what little appetite he had altogether. He sat in silence, nervously picking at a thread in his jacket and praying there were no other courses. Eventually, Aleksander put his fork down and wiped his mouth with an embroidered napkin before standing up and gesturing for Rose and Alin to follow him through a side door.

Alin's stomach tightened; what if Tsvetan was through that door? He braced himself for the worst and almost sighed in relief when he found himself in an empty office. Like Tino's, books covered the walls, but the whole room had an air of old fashioned order that the assassin's office didn't convey at all. A large, heavy desk stood in the middle of the room and Aleksander sat himself down behind it. Rose shut the door, the last one in, and moved over to the bookshelf, sitting in an armchair in the corner.

'It's good to see you after all these years,' drawled Aleksander, taking another sip of the wine he'd brought with him from the dining room, 'Rose and I were so worried about you.'

'Indeed,' added Rose, 'Alin, dearie, why didn't you say you were in trouble financially? We would've given you all the money you needed. We're partners, remember?'

Lies, lies, lies. Every word. They'd have treated him like any other person they lent money to, no matter his relationship with them back then. Surely they must've known he left because he was terrified of them and only took the money to make sure he could get by on his own.

' _Were_  partners,' corrected Alin, 'I think duos are better than trios.'

'Personally,' Aleksander's lip curled into the slightest of sneers, 'I've seen you as being more of a  _solo_  act.'

Alin paled as he realised what the other man meant; 'don't hurt Tsvetan,' he whispered.

'Where's our money?'

'I don't have it!' cried Alin.

'Then your friend doesn't have a hope,' Rose pushed her glasses further up her nose, 'if you have nothing for us then he'll be dead within the hour. Now clear out.'

'What?' Alin shook his head, 'no, please, I'm begging you! Tsvet never did anything to hurt you, or anyone! Let him live godammit!'

'What's this?' Aleksander's eyebrow twitched in amusement, 'Alin Radacanu,  _begging_?'

'I don't know what image you have of me,' Alin looked Jensen straight in the eye, 'but there is no low I won't stoop to, to get what I want. And right now I want Tsvetan Borisov safe and home where he belongs.'

'Well, well, well,' Rose raised an eyebrow, regarding Alin with interest, 'this changes things. I'm quite curious about just how far you're willing to go.'

'Me too,' Aleksander rested his chin on his hands, expression blank as ever, 'how about this: we give you one week to pay back what you owe.'

'Plus interest,' Rose chimed in.

'Plus interest,' Aleksander repeated, 'which would bring your total to around ten thousand dollars. Now here's the deal: you leave here and get the money, every cent, I don't care how you raise it, but I want you to bring it all here by nine o'clock next Thursday night or Mr Borisov is history.'

'Yes, of course,' Alin gave a hopeful smile, 'I'll do it! I'll bring you your money.'

'You better,' growled Aleksander, then he leaned back in his chair 'well, there seems to be nothing else left to discuss. Good day, Radacanu.'

'Wait,' Alin shot up, holding out a hand, 'I want to see him.'

'Who?'

'You know who! Tsvetan, I want to see Tsvetan alive, or the deal's off.'

'Well I don't see a problem with that,' Rose shrugged, 'this way,' she opened the door and gestured for the other two to follow her. Alin allowed himself to be lead into the hall and up the grand stairs, then up even more stairs to the attics. His breath quickened, becoming shallow, and his stomach was once again tying itself in knots. They walked along a corridor, lit by a tiny window at the end, doors on either side. At the end, Aleksander turned and took a tiny key out of his pocket, using it to open the last door.

'Is he in there?' whispered Alin.

'Go right ahead.'

Alin pushed past the other two and barged into the room. It was almost empty of furniture, the floorboards bare with splinters sticking out everywhere. The dust in the room and on the window stopped a large portion of the light coming through, but there was enough to see clearly.

Alin, of course, noticed none of this, and instead bounded towards Tsvetan, who was sitting in a rickety wooden chair, his back to the door, slouching forward.

'Tsve! It's me, Alin!' Alin skidded past the chair and came to a halt in front of him, gasping in horror.

Tsvetan was tied to the chair using thin coils of rope wrapped around his wrists and ankles cutting off blood and leaving purple bruises, especially where they rubbed against the skin when he tried to wriggle free. He was thin, with hollowed cheekbones, and covered in bruises and scars of all ages and colours. Tsvetan's hair was unwashed and clung to his skin, caked in dried blood, from a head wound he probably received during his kidnapping, as well as sweat. His coat and scarf were missing, more bruises and bones showing through his thin t-shirt, which did nothing to protect him from the chill. He was also blindfolded.

'Al? where are you?' Tsvetan looked around fearfully, voice raspy from thirst, 'is this another trick?'

'No, it's really me,' Alin knelt down in front of him and brushed Tsvetan's face with the back of his hand, 'it's alright now.' He sat up and started undoing the blindfold.

'Oy! Remove it and we'll kill you both!' snarled Rose.

'Please! Tsvetan's terrified of the dark!' begged Alin, 'at least let me take the blindfold off!'

'Why do you think we put it on in the first place?' sneered Aleksander, 'leave it or else.'

'I see,' Alin dropped his hands, resting them on Tsvetan's knees, 'look, Tsve, I'm gonna get you out of here, promise,' he sighed, 'I'm so, so sorry for getting you into the mess. I understand if you're furious…'

'I was,' admitted Tsvetan, 'at first, but now I just want you to get me out of here. Please, take me away.'

'I will, but not right now,' Alin promised, 'I have to get the money first before they'll let me take you home. It's only one more week; you can make it.'

Tsvetan shuddered, but nodded, gulping, 'I- I'll try.'

'Come on Tsve, you're better than this!' cried Alin, 'you can make it; I know you can.'

'You don't understand…' he whispered.

'I do,' Alin rested his head in his friend's lap, 'boy do I do.' A thought struck him and he sat up, pulling his backpack off his shoulders and opening it.

'You better not be trying anything,' growled Aleksander.

'I'm only giving him some water,' Alin held up a plastic bottle to prove it, 'I promise I'm not trying anything.' He unscrewed the lid and put the bottle to Tsvetan's lips, 'here ya go; you look like you need it.' He allowed Tsvetan to drink the entire bottle before shoving it back in his bag, 'look, I know this is awful but, you can make it through the week. I believe you can,' he sighed, taking Tsvetan's face in his hands, 'it kills me to see you like this, and there won't be a day that goes by where I won't feel guilty for this. One more week. One more week and we can go back to how things were… if you want to, that is.'

'I do,' whispered Tsvetan.

'Thank you,' Alin's lips twitched upwards for a second, 'I don't deserve you.'

'I know.'

'Just… if you're ever feeling scared, or alone,' began Alin, 'try to think of nice things. Like… warm food that melts in your mouth or… sitting by the window watching the sun set, lying on the window sill with your leg hanging over the side, like you always do, just singing to the city. Try to think… of all the stupid shit we did together, that's it! If you're sad, just think of the time we got drunk and tried to see how many crayons we could shove up our noses.'

'I ended up bleeding;' Tsvetan chuckled, 'didn't I?'

'Yeah, that was it,' Alin laughed, 'sorry about that too.'

'Hey I don't mind; it was a good laugh,'

'Nice to see you smiling again,' Alin commented, stroking Tsvetan's hair, 'you keep that up, okay?'

'Time's up,' Aleksander interrupted, striding over and grabbing Alin by the arm, wrenching him up.

Alin was only dimly aware of it all; all he knew was that his friend was getting further away from his reach.

'No,' he mumbled, 'no let me stay some more!'

'You've had long enough,'

'No! Tsvetan! Please, let me go!'

He was dragged out of the room, the door slammed shut and Tsvetan disappeared from view.

…

'I'm sorry,' Alin whispered under his breath, for what felt like the millionth time on his journey home. He hadn't even begun to think about raising the money to pay Jensen and Kirkland back. How could he? He could still picture Tsvetan tied to that chair, alone in the dark. His hopeful face at hearing Alin's voice, the expression of horror when he realised he was not being rescued, the hollowed cheeks, visible collarbones, it killed Alin to see him like that.

He was so wrapped up in the gruesome thoughts, that he didn't notice the police car outside his house until it was almost too late.

He looked up and stopped himself from screeching in shock before diving into a nearby alley. Once his breathing had reached a reasonable pace, he peeked out to find out what was happening. Two policemen walked out of his front door, in deep discussion, and continued their conversation in front of their car. After a short while, a third policeman jogged outside and showed something, Alin couldn't see what, to the first two. He watched in despair as all three ran back inside and decided he'd seen enough, leaning against a wall and sliding down, settling in a crouched position.

The police were searching his apartment. Now what will he do? Alin sighed and stood up again. He couldn't stay here, that's for sure, lest they find and arrest him, and started walking deeper into the alley, soon breaking into a jog, then a full run.

He'd have to find somewhere else to stay, but where? Any one of his and Tsvetan's friends could've given the police their address and he didn't know who to trust anymore. There was no other alternative. Ducking into another side-street, Alin slowed to a walk. He hoped  _she_  wouldn't mind an extra guest.


	11. Accused

'Open the goddamn door!' Alin's fists pummelled the door until an irate Elizabeta threw the thing wide open and glared at him.

'Last Thursday you said that if I helped you I'd never have to see your sorry, good-for-nothing ass again,' she stated.

'And?'

'This is the second time you've shown up on my doorstep since then!'

'Since when do I ever keep my promises, you scary banshee of a woman?' Alin barged past her and ducked into the hall, fixing his hair and hat in the little mirror hanging next to the coats, 'look, Liz, you gotta hide me!'

'Why  _me_?' Elizabeta raised an eyebrow, closing the front door.

'Because someone's told the police where Tsvetan and I live, and now I don't know who to trust any more. So you're the only one I can turn to as you don't have my address,' Alin sighed, turning to face her, 'see, people like, well, me have this agreement of not going to the police for anything, no matter how important it is. You of all people should know how delicate and intertwined the shadowy underworld of crime is. If one of us gets arrested and imprisoned, the others will follow soon, a bit like human dominos.'

'Course,' replied Elizabeta, 'but then why would someone call the cops on you?'

'Dunno,' Alin shrugged, 'maybe it's one of our non-criminal mates. I have a fair few, despite popular belief. Okay, maybe they're Tsvetan's old college friends, but still! Maybe someone thought this shit was serious enough to actually get the law involved. As a matter of fact, I was hoping to borrow your TV too; might shed some light on the whole thing.'

'Very well,' Elizabeta sighed and showed him into the sitting room, a cosy little room at the rear of the house with a view of the back garden. Roderich and Franz were already curled up on the sofa, boredly watching after-school children's programmes on the TV.

'Ooh, Sesame Street,' Alin grinned and plopped himself down next to Franz.

'Hi Uncle Alin!' the child beamed.

'He's still not your uncle!' called Elizabeta.

'Sup little man,' replied Alin, ruffling the kid's long hair.

Elizabeta cleared her throat, leaning against the door frame, 'don't you have something to do?'

'Oh, right,' Alin turned to Roderich, 'can I borrow your TV to watch the news again?'

'Please,' Roderich practically shoved the remote into his hands. Not a fan of kid's TV, huh?

'Cheers,' Alin flicked over to the news channel and the opening sequence to the six o'clock news appeared, 'ah, just in time.' They had to wait a few more minutes before the relevant story came up and when it did, Alin once more felt his blood run cold.

'-Police have raided the home of the suspected murderer, Alin Radacanu, and are still on the lookout for him. They have warned the public not to approach Mr Radacanu as he is dangerous and likely to be armed, and if you do see him, or have any information regarding his whereabouts, then contact the police immediately.' A picture of Alin, a single headshot of him glaring into the camera, appeared on screen, 'Mr Radacanu has been suspected of murdering student Tsvetan Borisov,' his picture was replaced by one of Tsvetan, the same one from last time, 'who was apparently his roommate and close friend.'

'A friend of the missing person,' continued the newsreader, 'who cannot be named for legal reasons, informed the police of their concerns in regards to Mr Borisov's disappearance. They'd also told the police that the two men were close, but had fallen out the night Mr Borisov went missing.' A photograph of Alin and Tsvetan slouching on a park bench grinning at the camera and holding tubs of frozen yoghurt appeared. Alin remembered that photo from last summer; a big group of them had all gone down to the local park to play soccer, and muck about in the playground.

'It is believed Mr Radacanu murdered Mr Borisov during or after their fight, but the police have yet to find a body.'

'What bullshit!' cried Alin once the report was finished, 'I never killed Tsvet! Heck, he ain't even dead!'

'You've seen him?' questioned Elizabeta.

'Yes he…' Alin's face fell, 'I saw Jensen and Kirkland in person. Turns out that cousin of yours is best mates with the pair and won't kill them, so made me go talk it out with them instead. Anyway, they say I have a week to pay back what I owe- with interest- or they'll kill Tsve, for real this time!' he leaned back and groaned, 'I saw _him_  too, tied to a chair in the attic. They're beating and starving him! They blindfolded him too just because he hates the dark,' he looked up with watery eyes, 'h-how can someone do that to another human being?'

'I… I don't know,' admitted Elizabeta, picking up Franz and stroking the child's hair protectively, 'but he's still alive; that's the main thing. You just gotta get the money and he'll be safe, right?'

'But how?' demanded Alin, 'there's so much!'

'Look, how about this,' began Elizabeta, 'when do you have to bring the cash to them by?'

'Next Thursday,'

'Well raise what you can and meet us here on Thursday,' she suggested, 'Roddy and I will pay the rest. Hell, we'll even drive you there.'

'Really?' Alin's face broke into a grin.

'It's to save someone's life,' Elizabeta shrugged, 'it'd be nice if you paid it back sometime, though.'

'Sure, I'd rather owe you money than those guys,' Alin shuddered, then paused for a moment, 'I… well, I appreciate what you've done, everything you've done for Tsve and me.'

'Don't mention it,' Elizabeta waved a hand, 'seriously, don't mention it. Ever. Look, Roderich and I are good people, right?'

Roderich didn't appear to be listening.

'Roddy?'

'Huh, sorry,' Roderich turned to face the other two, 'it's just, are you sure they've been beating and starving Tsvetan? They'd want to keep him alive to lure you in, right? Doesn't make sense to risk killing him.'

'Huh? You don't believe me or something? I know what I saw!' Alin wrinkled his nose, 'you've led a pretty sheltered life, haven't you?'

'More or less…' admitted Roderich.

'Look, it doesn't take a few weeks eating next to nothing to kill someone, usually. A few kicks in the stomach won't kill you either. They're doing it partly to scare me, and partly because they can,' Alin sighed, hugging his knees, 'it was a cruel trick, setting out that massive feast when there was a man starving about our heads. I gave him some water though, maybe that'll help. Maybe it's better  _those people_  don't give him food. Knowing Jensen and Kirkland, they're probably feeding him crushed glass and asbestos.'

'Oh now you're just upsetting yourself!' scoffed Elizabeta, 'they're not trying to kill him! Well not just yet anyway.'

'It baffles me though,' Roderich shook his head in disbelief, 'how do they even think they can get away with such atrocities?'

'Well, if they get one hint that the cops know anything, they'll kill Tsvet!' exclaimed Alin, 'and they are using that to keep me from doing anything else but giving in to their wishes.' He put his head in his hands and felt tears form in his eyes. Meeting Jensen and Kirkland again, finding Tsvetan in that state, finding out everyone thought he was a murderer… the whole day had been too much for him. It would be too much for anyone! Now he was somewhere he felt safe, Alin let everything out, let the tears roll down his face as he cried out for his lost friend, for his lost life. He faintly felt someone rest their hands on his shoulders, which were shaking from his sobs, and Roderich dabbed his face with a handkerchief.

'Hey,' he soothed, 'just let it all out, okay? You're doing everything you can for him.'

Alin shook his head, staring at Roderich with a red, blotchy face and an expression of disbelief.

'He… he thought I was coming to take hi… him home,' he sobbed, 'the l-look on his face… it was so full of hope! Like he believed he was going to be saved and I had to t-tell him he wasn't going anywhere and that I'd let him down!'

Just then, the front doorbell rang and Elizabeta set Franz down, running into the hall to answer it.

'Wait… you have a doorbell?' Alin raised an eyebrow.

'Yes we were wondering when you'd notice,' Roderich commented.

'Well damn.'

'So what seems to be the problem, officer?' asked Elizabeta from the hall, raising her voice so it could be heard in the sitting room. Roderich and Alin exchanged horrified glances and Alin slid off the couch, tiptoeing over to the door to listen closer.

'…a neighbour reported seeing a wanted criminal being let into your home less than half an hour ago,' the policeman replied, 'it's probably imagination running wild; we've had several sightings of Mr Radacanu today, but it's best to make sure. We need to search the place, just to be safe.'

'Well, I don't know why anyone would make such a slanderous accusation,' Elizabeta exclaimed, 'but do come in! We have nothing to hide.'

'That's your cue to leave,' hissed Roderich, dragging Alin into the kitchen and quietly opening the back door, 'Franz will show you the way.'

'Course!' Franz took Alin's hand and led him into the back yard. The pair broke into a run until they reached the wall at the end, which Alin dived over, landing painfully on the stony ground behind it.

'Good luck,' Franz called, running over to a little swing-slide set, so it would look like he'd been out there the whole time.

'Cheers!' Alin called back, crawling army-style, despite the pain in his arms, ribs and jaw, along the floor of the alley behind the house as fast as he could. The whole thing was too close for him, now that he was being accused of something serious, and he could not afford to get caught.

Who'd be left to help Tsvetan if he was in prison?

Sighing, Alin racked his brains for somewhere else he could stay.


	12. Just hear me out

Alin quietly tapped on the back door, once more glancing around to see if anyone was watching. He didn't want to risk using a front door again, but now the man was starting to realise this was probably just as suspicious, maybe even more so. He was standing right up against the door in the evening shadows, trying to not get noticed until his knocking was answered. A few minutes of tapping later, Alin finally heard the sound of footsteps on hard floor and the lights flickered on before Katya finally opened the door. Tsvetan's old friend from college was dressed in a jumper with a long skirt and tights, worn out from an extensive day as a kindergarten teacher. He respected her, and hoped the young woman would be kind enough to let him stay, and not tell her brother either.

'Why are you usi- ALIN?' she gasped and took a step back, shaking her head, fear in her eyes, 'no, don't kill me too! I don't have anything for you!' She was in her kitchen, a tiny room that directly joined onto the living room.

'What? Why would I?' Alin groaned; so she'd watched the news then, 'look, I never killed Tsvet! Please, I need you help!'

'No get back!' she grabbed a wooden spoon off the kitchen counter and brandished it at him, 'I'll… I'll scream really loudly! Murderer!'

'Please, Katya,' Alin raised both hands in a gesture of surrender, trying desperately to think of any way to show her he meant no harm, 'I'm not going to hurt you. I just need someplace to hole up for a few days.'

'Stay back!' Katya ducked into the living room and ran for the phone, pressing a button and putting the thing to her ear. So she had her brother on speed dial?

Alin cursed and ran after her, 'please just hear me out!'

'Help, Vanya!' Katya moved so her dining table stood between her and Alin, who couldn't move around it without her running in the opposite direction, 'please, there's someone in my house attacking me! I can't get out and oh God it's the man who killed Tsvetan! Get help! He's going to kill me!' she was almost hysterical now, sobbing uncontrollably.

'No I did not!' hissed Alin, climbing onto the table and grabbing Katya's arm, 'look, I'd never hurt Tsve, or you! Please Katya; all I'm asking for is one minute to let me explain.'

Katya looked at him uneasily, but sighed and nodded, covering the mouthpiece of her phone with a hand, 'fine, one minute. After that I'm telling Vanya to come get me, and you know how scary he can get if his sisters are in danger.'

'Look, Tsvetan is not dead but has been abducted and injured and I'm trying to save him!' hissed Alin, 'I know it looks bad but I'd never wound him ever! In fact, I'm going to bring him home but to do that I need to collect ten thousand dollars in a week and I can't go home cause the cops are there and they think I'm the murderer which is why I'm here. Please, all I'm asking for is somewhere safe to stay while I raise the money.'

'You're not… a murderer?' began Katya.

'Course!' Alin grinned, 'do I look like a murderer to you?'

'Katya? KATYA?' Ivan's panicked voice came through the phone, 'please answer me sis are you okay? YEKATERINA BRAGINSKAYA PICK UP THE PHONE! Oh god, what have you done to her you bastards? She better not be injured or I will hunt you down and slaughter you where you stand!'

'Oh, hi Vanya,' Katya began speaking into the phone again.

'What's going on? Are you safe?'

Katya and Alin exchanged tense glances.

'Please,' he breathed, 'please believe me,'

'Of course! Sorry, I was watching a scary movie and my imagination took over,' she giggled, 'I thought there was someone looking in through the window, silly me! Sorry to worry you. I'm fine!'

'Huh? But you sounded so frightened! Are you sure you're okay?' pressed Ivan, 'someone isn't forcing you to say these things, right? You're saying this out of your own free will.'

'No, no,' replied Yekaterina, 'everything's peachy!'

'If you say so…' Ivan still sounded unsure.

'I do! Goodbye then!' Yekaterina hung up the phone, but held it close, still not trusting Alin entirely. She looked at him with a slightly fearful expression, but nodded, silently compelling him to start talking. Alin nodded and climbed off the dining table.

'I understand how bad this looks,' he began, 'and I know what the police are saying, but I care way to much about Tsve to ever kill him! You have to believe me when I say he's the most important person in my life.'

'I see,' Yekaterina sighed, 'you said something about getting money for him…'

'Yes, I met with his kidnappers today; they told me to get together ten thousand dollars or they'd kill him,' Alin sat at the dining table and shook his head; 'I have no idea what to do. I've got a hundred and twenty bucks on me; that's all.'

'So how do you plan to get the ransom money?' asked Katya, sliding into the seat opposite him.

'Earning it, I guess, or asking people who know Tsvet and me to donate,' Alin shrugged, 'well, that was the plan anyway. Now the whole state and police force are probably after me and everyone knows what I look like. If I go outside I'll be recognised and arrested. I don't know what to do about that.'

'We'll think of something,' Katya smiled reassuringly.

'You… you believe me?' Alin gave a small smile in return.

'Well, I just can't see you hurting Tsve like that,' admitted Katya, 'you two are as close as they come.'

'Thank you.'

'So, have you seen him?' asked Katya, avoiding his gaze.

Alin nodded, 'he's not good. They've… done terrible things to him. I'm not even sure if he'll recover physically, let alone mentally.'

'That's… that's just not right!' Katya shook her head, 'Tsvet's a good man! Who's 'they', if I may ask?'

'Aleksander Jensen and Rose Kirkland,' Alin shuddered, 'old… acquaintances of mine whom I stole money from some time ago,' Katya opened her mouth to reply but Alin waved a hand, 'yes, yes, I know! Please, I've already heard it from others. It's all my fault he's in this mess and I'm a terrible, irresponsible piece of shit. I get it and I know.'

'I was going to say that I respect you so much for staying and trying to sort out your mess,' said Katya, 'normally, you'd be outta here as fast as you could, but you're actually staying to save Tsvetan? You're growing up, Alin Radacanu!'

'Well I'm twenty five,' reasoned Alin, 'it was bound to happen someday! And Tsve's pretty much all I have left now.'

'I believe in you,' Katya smiled warmly at him, 'you can save Tsve.'

'Thanks, I really needed that,'

'So, I guess we should start working on ideas tomorrow,' suggested Katya, 'I was thinking that we could fashion a little disguise for you. You know, maybe some hair dye and sunglasses. Or a wig.'

'Could work,' Alin shrugged, leaning back in the chair.

'Would you like something to eat?' offered Katya, 'I have some leftovers I could heat up for you.'

'Thanks but, I don't have much of an appetite anymore.'

'That bad, huh?' Katya raised an eyebrow.

'Huh? Oh, Tsve…' Alin sighed, 'he's in so much pain now, and frightened, really frightened. I'd give anything to go back in time and stop him walking out that door.'

'I know this will sound cheesy but, you can still change the future even if the past is unchangeable,' Katya chuckled.

'Yeah, you're right.'

There was a knock on the door and Alin yelped, diving under the table.

'Oh god your brother's here!' he hissed, 'he's gonna kill me and you know it! That prick's all bite first and ask questions later. Be a dear and explain the situation over my cold, dead body for me.'

'Don't be silly,' scoffed Katya, 'Vanya lives way across town; there's no way he'd have got here yet, if he's coming at all.'

'Then it's the police!'

'Or maybe one of my own friends,' Katya hinted, 'you know, because I actually have a social life.'

'Oh, right,' Alin crawled out from under the table, 'gonna be prepared to run out the door anyway. You know, just to be safe.'

'Fair enough,' Katya wandered into the hall and Alin waited with baited breath. Was he about to find himself on the run yet again? There was a few moments silence, then Katya let out a piercing shriek.


	13. Testimony and evidence

Alin grabbed a glass bottle off the coffee table and raced into the hall to find Yekaterina embracing another figure, he couldn't see them clearly, and showering them with kisses.

 _What?_  He thought she was being attacked and now…

'I haven't seen you in ages!' she exclaimed, holding the person at arm's length. Now, Alin was able to see them clearly and found that the new arrival was… Eduard? As in, Eduard Von Brock who worked on computers by day and sang in clubs by night? More confused than ever, Alin took a step forward, still unnoticed by the pair.

'Sorry,' replied Eduard, 'I've been busy at work, both jobs, and my cousins were using me as an owl-'

Katya silenced him with a kiss; Alin decided to make his presence known.

'Hey you have a computer programmer on your face,' he stated, leaning against the radiator and smirking.

The couple yelped and wheeled round to face him.

'Oh it's okay; he's gone now,' Alin grinned.

'What the hell are  _you_  doing here?' hissed Eduard.

'Katya let me in,' replied Alin, 'that's usually how people enter each other's houses nowadays.'

'You let a  _murderer_  into your house?' Eduard turned to face Katya with an expression of horror. Alin internally groaned; had no one stopped to question that report? Did no one think there was even the tiniest chance he was innocent? He didn't look  _that_  shifty, right?

The young woman simply shut the door, locking it.

'Look, I don't think he killed anyone,' she replied simply, 'but Alin needs shelter and I said he could stay with me.'

'It's still crazy!' cried Eduard, 'have you seen this guy? Even if he didn't murder Tsvetan I wouldn't want him in my house!'

'Any friend of Tsvetan's is a friend of mine,' replied Katya firmly.

'Firstly, that's rude, Eduard, very rude,' added Alin, 'and secondly, what do you think all those notes between your cousins were anyway?' Alin wrinkled his nose, 'we've all been trying to save Tsvetan!'

'He's still alive?' Eduard's eyebrows shot up.

'Only just,' Alin shuddered, 'look, how 'bout you sit down and I'll explain everything, okay?'

'I guess it couldn't hurt,' Eduard shrugged, 'Eli and Tino seem intent on keeping me in that dark on the matter, so it'd be nice to hear it straight from the horses' mouth.'

'Course,' Alin led Eduard into the sitting room and Katya sighed in relief, pushing any disappointment and annoyance down. Yes, she had planned to spend the evening alone with her- secret- boyfriend, but what could she do? A friend was in trouble and she could hardly turn him down. Still, it wasn't like she'd never have a chance to see Ed again. Katya started to follow the other two when she heard shouts from outside and only moments later someone pounding on the door.

'KATYA! LET ME IN THIS INSTANT!' screamed Ivan, 'PLEASE, TELL ME YOU'RE OKAY!'

'Oh,' Katya glanced at the sitting room nervously,  _was it a wise idea to let her brother loose on those two?_

'IF SOMEONE DOESN'T OPEN THE DOOR I'LL BREAK IT DOWN!'

Yes it was.

'Calm down Vanya,' Yekaterina soothed, unlocking the door, 'I'm perfectly fine, see?'

'Oh thank goodness!' Ivan pulled his sister into a crushing hug, 'I thought you'd been killed or hurt!' he held her at arms' length, gazing at her with worried eyes, 'you… are okay, right?' Katya glanced out the door to find her brother's car, parked right outside her garden, on the sidewalk even, had branches and mud in the wheels. He ruined his nice car just to get to her quickly?

Katya chuckled, 'yes, I'm fine. Don't worry so much about me.'

'I can't help it!' protested Ivan, 'you and Natalya are my family! It's bad enough my little sister's avoiding me without you having troubles too.'

'I see,' Katya sighed, 'Talya's still not telling you what's wrong then?'

'No,' Ivan's face fell.

'Well, thank you for stopping by,' Katya giggled nervously, 'but it's getting late; don't you think you should be heading over to your club or home or-'

'You're hiding something,' Ivan stated it as if it were a fact.

'What? No-'

'You are my sister and I know when you're lying,' Ivan's face grew darker, 'what have you done now? Please, if you're in trouble, just say.'

'There's nothing-'

Ivan pushed past her and stormed into the living room. Katya cursed and followed.

'Okay, who else is in here?' he demanded, walking around the room. Katya stood in the doorway and glanced around nervously but there was no one else in the room.  _Where were Alin and Eduard?_

Ivan sighed and looked under the table, 'you know, you two would be  _awful_  at hide and seek,' he commented, laughing childishly.

'Shit!' cried a voice from under the table, earning a glare from Ivan.

'Radacanu?' he growled.

'Before you say anything, I didn't murder him!' Alin crawled out, closely followed by Eduard, and stood up to his full height, trying and failing to intimidate Ivan, 'you said it yourself you didn't think I done it!'

'A week ago, yes,' agreed Ivan, 'but now, when there is so much evidence against you…'

'What evidence?' scoffed Alin.

'Well, there's Hera's testimony,' began Ivan, 'and they found a knife in your apartment.' He grabbed Alin by the collar and lifted the man up, 'and now you show your sorry face in my sister's home, give some bullshit story and plan to kill her off too?'

'What are you talking about?' cried Alin, 'what knife? Heracles was the one who grassed?'

'Don't play dumb,' growled Ivan, 'it said on the news they found a knife with Tsvetan's blood hidden in your apartment. All that's left is to find his body.'

'What? Oh god, the real abductors must've put that in there! It was probably to scare me or something and now the cops have found it!' protested Alin, 'I haven't been back to my house since this morning! They had plenty of time to plant it there.'

'I thought you said you were with the people who took Tsve all morning,' Katya pointed out.

'Yeah, but just the morning,' explained Alin, 'they still had a chance to do it while I was wandering around the town thinking.'  _Or they told Natalya to do it while I was talking to them_ , Alin realised,  _that's why they asked her to leave!_  It must have been pre-planned to either frame him or just shock him. Of course, Alin couldn't explain that to everyone. He was pretty sure Natalya wouldn't appreciate him telling her siblings what she was being forced to do, if they believed him at all.

'Don't buy it,' Ivan wrinkled his nose.

'Well it's the truth!' Alin struggled under Ivan's grip, but couldn't break free, 'why would I hurt Tsve? He's my friend! Heck, he's pretty much my entire world! I know who took him and I've met with them and I have a plan to get Tsve back, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't break my bones or whatever you do to people you hate.'

A flicker of doubt spread across Ivan's face, 'you… know who took him?'

'Yes, old 'friends' of mine, it's a long story,'

'I see,' Ivan set Alin down and ruffled his hair, 'ah fine, I believe you're innocent, for now anyway.'

'Great!' Alin fell silent for a moment, then frowned, 'Hera told the cops I was a killer?'

Ivan shrugged, 'he was worried,' he explained, 'the one time you showed up to his place, you seemed odd to him, 'distant and guilt-ridden' were his exact words. Then you disappeared and Tsvetan still hadn't turned up and he thought the kid was long dead and you had something to do with it. He was scared you would hurt someone else he cared about, so tipped the police off as to where you lived. That's all he did, give your address. The cops already pegged you as the main suspect.'

'I see…' Alin couldn't be mad at Heracles; the man had done what he thought was right and Alin didn't blame him… much. Yes, he was a little annoyed, but there were more important things to worry about.

'Now,' began Eduard, 'can we please hear the story from the beginning?'

'Of course,' everyone sat down at the dining table and Alin recounted everything that had happened over the past three weeks, from Tsvetan storming out to the meeting with Jensen and Kirkland. The three listened closely, and by the end not even Ivan had dry eyes.

'They… did what to him?' whispered Katya, covering her mouth with her hand.

'You heard me,' Alin looked at the table miserably, pulling at his gloves just to give his hands something to do.

'So, you have a week to get the money?' repeated Ivan.

'Uh-huh,' Alin nodded.

'I'll… I'll start a collection at my club,' Ivan assured him, 'to raise as much as I can. I am pretty sure everyone will donate generously.' There was a slightly sinister edge to that last sentence, but everyone chose to ignore it.

'Thank you, I'd really appreciate that,' Alin gave a weak smile and the room fell into silence.

'I've been meaning to ask for a while now, but what are  _you_  doing here?' Ivan demanded, pointing accusingly at Eduard.

'Me? I- err-' Eduard glanced around nervously, desperately trying to come up with an excuse.

'He was returning my laptop,' Katya jumped in, 'I got a virus on it a few days ago and he took it to remove the virus. Thank you again for fixing my computer,' she added to Eduard, smiling sweetly.

'No problem at all,' Eduard pushed his glasses up his face, smiling bashfully.

'Seriously, sis, you're a terrible liar,' Ivan groaned, 'so why is he really here?'

'Well…'

'Yes?'

'I… he's my boyfriend!'

Silence. Ivan seemed to be taking some time to comprehend what his sister had told him. Finally, he spoke up, voice cracking, 'you- you're dating… my sister?'

'Yes,' admitted Eduard, 'but… you have to believe me when I say I care about Katya very much!'

'You're…' Ivan shook his head in disbelief.

'Vanya,' warned Katya, 'I'm a grown woman and can make my own decisions.'

'I know, but _Eduard Von Brock_?'

'You don't have to be so rude,' scoffed Eduard, 'I mean, who would you rather have staying in your sister's home: me or  _that_?' he pointed at Alin, who let out an offended cry.

'Radacanu's relationship with that little Bulgarian boy's always been shady enough that I don't have to worry about him being around Katya.'

'Actually, I'm bi- you know what? Never mind…' Alin trailed off, deciding to stay out of the conversation the best he could.

' _Vanya_ ,' warned Katya.

'Fine, fine,' Ivan raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, 'you have my blessing. But be warned,' he added, looming over Eduard, 'if you do anything, anything at all, to hurt my precious sister in any way, I will personally shove a cactus so far up your rear end you'll have needles coming out your ears for a month.'

'I understand perfectly,' Eduard assured him, 'and don't worry, I… well… I care for Yekaterina too much to ever hurt her.'

'Good.'

Alin chuckled, 'oh man, that mental image though!'

'That same applies to you if you do anything to upset Katya while you're staying here,' Ivan threatened.

'Yes, sir,' Alin gave a salute, then rolled his eyes the second Ivan turned away.

'Well,' he began, 'I suppose it is time for me to leave now, huh? That bar isn't going to run itself, and I don't want Francis and Toris to worry about me.'

'Oh, about that…' Eduard trailed off.

'Yes, you may have the night off,' Ivan gave a sweet smile, 'you've been working almost non stop these past weeks so you deserve some time off to rest and regain your strength, as I am sure you will be doing, and not anything else that might involve my sister.'

'Ivan!'

'Thank you,' Eduard blushed slightly.

Ivan nodded and stood up.

'I'll see you to the door,' Katya jumped up and followed her brother.

'So…' once the siblings had left, Alin began picking at a thread in his jacket, 'Katya, huh? When did you two get together?'

'A few months ago,' explained Eduard, 'I'd just finished a shift at Ivan's club and Katya was there. She asked me to walk her home because it was late and I did, and, well, I just asked her on a date, blurted it out, really. I was so embarrassed and apologized immediately… but she said yes! Can you believe it?'

'No.'

'Well it's the truth. We started dating after that,' Eduard's fingers drummed against the table.

'And do you love her?' asked Alin.

'That's a very personal question.'

'Oh, right… so do you?'

Eduard sighed, giving a small smile, 'I don't know yet…maybe, yes, fine yes! But it's too early for me to be telling her that.'

'Right, right,' the pair lapsed into silence and Katya re-entered the room.

'So it seems I have two overnight guests,' she stated joyfully, 'oh, Alin, let me get you some pyjamas; I think I have a set of some that Ivan grew out of somewhere.'

'Long sleeves, please,' requested Alin.

'I'll see what I can do.'


	14. Phobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains mentions of pyrophobia and burns

Alin lay on his back in the dark, gazing up at the blank ceiling, the only sound being his slow steady breathing. Moonlight drifted in through the gaps in the curtains, so he could make out most of the objects around him, and every time a car drove past, a dull, yellow beam would sweep across, almost as if it was scanning him. He was wrapped up in a warm duvet in Ivan's old bedroom. It was strange, seeing the place where the man had grown up as a kid and teen, and Alin had wasted no time in snooping around the moment Katya had said goodnight and shut the door. What? He was only human!

Alin liked the walls best. Either Ivan or Katya (or possibly Natalya) was an exceptional artist because the walls were covered in a massive painting of a sunflower field. It spanned all four walls and Alin had just sat on the floor, taking in the detail, the colours used, the golds, greens, blues, captured by a sweeping brush, and cast his mind back to when he was a child. His father was a motor enthusiast, and loved driving the whole family for day trips on the beach, if only so he could clean his car before and after. Alin remembered sitting in the back with his little brother, Andrei, and staring out the window as they whizzed past fields of not only sunflowers, but all different crops and plants, as well as the occasional house or village. The sun was always shining on those days; that was probably why they were heading to the seashore, and he could almost hear him and his brother laughing, buckets and spades on their laps.

Alin wrinkled his nose and pushed the memory out of his mind, turning on his side, and picking at his- well, Ivan's- pyjama sleeve. He knew it was a bad habit, especially when the pyjamas weren't his to begin with, but couldn't help it. He always picked at his clothing when he was nervous. Especially around others, when he was afraid of his sleeves riding up.

He was glad the pyjamas were long sleeved though, very glad, even if they probably weren't intended to be. It was bad enough that he'd resorted to wearing his suspenders with them all evening (what? Those things were way too big for him!). Still, Eduard got a good laugh out of it.

Alin had to admit it was nice spending the evening with the couple. Katya and Ed were good company and they'd laughed, joked and watched TV together. Heck, they'd even brought out snacks and a bottle of wine (Alin ate about half the food himself but refused to touch the drink, opting for water instead) snuggled up on the sofa in pyjamas and slippers before calling it a night at around nine thirty.

Alin wished Tsvetan had been there.

Alin wished Tsvetan was still holding out, still surviving despite the appalling conditions he was facing. Alin let another wave of guilt wash over him, holding back more tears. He'd been silently crying on and off for the past few hours and didn't want to start that again.

But it was just so unfair.

Here he was, wrapped up warm and well fed whilst Tsvetan… well, it was best not to think of  _that_  too much. Alin wanted, more than anything, to trade places, to have Tsvetan safe at his friend's house. Why was that too much to ask? Why were innocent people being dragged into Alin's mess? Alin's  _past_  mess. Life would be so much easier if the past kept its ugly head buried forever, leaving the future and future alone to guide everyone along.

Alin growled and kicked the covers off of him. That attic at Aleks and Rose's house was freezing; Tsvetan must be freezing so Alin would just have to be too. It wouldn't help in any way, Alin knew, but it made him feel slightly less guilty. Only slightly though.

He let out a frustrated cry and shot up.

Why? Why the hell was this happening to them?

He looked up at the ceiling again, praying silently.  _A week, that's all I ask. Please, let Tsve hold on for one more week. I cannot loose him now._

Alin wished once more that he'd realised just how important Tsvetan was to him.

After all, it was Tsvetan who helped him to overcome his phobia. Tsvetan who helped him to function.

He gave a humourless chuckle, pulling back the sleeves on the pyjamas and taking off his gloves. Yes, they were still there. Why wouldn't they be? They'd never leave.

He stared down at the ugly, red and white scars running along both arms, and partially on his hands too, staining and distorting the skin. His skin was dry and waxy, covered in scarlet blotches.

He'd had them since childhood, since he made that stupid mistake.

He'd only been seven at the time. It had been Saturday morning and he was the only one awake. Standing in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes tiredly, he'd decided to make breakfast for everyone, then he'd wake up Andrei and they'd go into their parents' room together and the four of them could have breakfast in bed together.

Well, that had been the plan.

Alin couldn't remember much, what with the shock of it and he'd only been a kid at the time. But the pan he'd been using caught fire. Had he used too much oil or had the gas on too high? It didn't matter anyway. All that mattered was that he'd been terrified, but still tried to fix it, like a good child. Maybe if he'd been older, or knew anything about health and safety, he'd have done the right thing and covered the pan in a damp cloth. But no, he'd poured a jug of water onto it, and a simple fire had turned into a raging, spitting inferno.

The fireball- that's what everyone called it later- engulfed both outstretched arms, and even licked against his face and torso.

He didn't remember being in any pain, funnily enough, but, as he gaped in horror at his charred arms, he screamed, crying out for his parents to save him.

And they did.

Again, his memories were fuzzy, but his father called the emergency services whilst his mother dragged him and his brother out of the house and poured water on his burns. She draped a blanket over his shoulders, fighting back tears whilst Andrei wailed, only two but knowing that his big brother was hurt. Their mother sang to calm them both down.

There was a ride in an ambulance too… rushing into the hospital was a blur… Half conscious by then, he could only focus on his arms, white tissue surrounded by charred, blackened, waxy skin.

The doctor told him they were third degree burns as he cleaned and dressed them, and then offered him medicine to take away the pain, telling him how brave he was. He stayed in hospital overnight, to make sure the burns didn't get infected, and that was that. He was sent home, after the doctor instructed his parents on how to change the dressing, and nothing more was said.

They managed to save his face and chest from scarring, but his arms would be a permanent reminder of his own ignorance and stupidity.

He could never go in the kitchen when someone was using the stove again. Just the very mention of fire could reduce him to tears and, after he moved to the states, he could no longer have hot, homemade food as his parents weren't there to cook it for him.

One day he'd come home to find Tsvetan cooking eggs, and had a panic attack. His friend had managed to drag him into the hall and calm him down, and once Alin was able to, he had told Tsvetan everything. Why not? For some reason, Alin had found it impossible to lie to Tsvetan over the years. He could hide things, avoid subjects, but not tell him a full blown lie to his friend's face.

Tsvetan had still been at collage then, and jumped at the change to test his knowledge in the psychodynamics. The pair had therapy sessions, where over time Tsvetan managed to help him overcome most of his fear. They talked, did brain exercises, and delved into Alin's past, well, the less shady parts anyway. Tsvetan explained that, whilst pan-fires were unfortunately quite common, you could avoid them if you knew what you were doing. Tsvetan gave demonstrations on how to avoid pan-fires and, eventually, Alin was cooking for the first time since he was a child.

Whilst Alin could stand to be around a small, controlled fire, the idea of wild, open flames still terrified him to the very core. Feral, brutal fire that ripped though you with its soft claws, surrounding and engulfing everything that stood in his path. Alin felt his breathing quicken and he looked around, panic rising. He had to remind himself that he was safe, there was no fire and there was no need for fear.

That would not be the case with Tsvetan.

Oh how Alin wished he knew enough about psychology to help Tsvetan with his own phobias in return. They could never afford a therapist, so Tsvetan was stuck being afraid of the dark. Not to say Alin didn't try, though. He bought his friend little nightlights, and batteries for them, on every occasion and the pair had managed to get to the source of his fear.

Apparently, when Tsvetan was a child and the family still growing, they had moved from a flat to a larger house and, on the day of moving, Tsvetan had decided to see if his, now empty, toy cupboard was large enough for him to fit in. It was. In fact, it was large enough that he closed the door and accidentally locked himself inside. Tsvetan had been terrified that his family would leave without him and he'd starve, trapped in the little cupboard for the next family to find. His own family found him, of course, but not before he'd worked himself up into complete hysteria.

Sometimes, when Tsvetan was feeling particularly uneasy, they'd share a bed. Not the most comfy situation, seeing as they both had single beds, and they both had their annoying habits, but it was nice.

Alin felt a rush of affection spread through his chest. Tsvetan was everything to him. They were everything to each other. It was funny, Alin couldn't even tell what kind of affection it was. It confused the hell out of him, and had done so for a while now, but he usually pushed those thoughts to the back of his head and refused to face them. He was almost certain that what he felt was different to simple friendship. Sure, Alin had slept with a fair few people, both sexes, and even had full blown relationships with some of them, but he had never got his heart involved too. It was too risky. But now?

Every thought of the man was accompanied by such a powerful wave of affection that Alin thought his heart would burst through his chest. He wanted to scream and cry over how he needed to be right beside Tsvetan, hugging him and holding him close, so that no one else could hurt him again. He wanted to tear anyone apart that dared cause this amazing human suffering or grief. Every time Tsvetan ever doubted himself in the past, or made a negative comment about himself, or thought of himself as anything less than wonderful, Alin wanted to run up to him and scold him for daring to talk bad about his favourite person in the world.

Tsvetan did not deserve what was happening to him. He did not deserve to pay for Alin's mistakes like this. The fact that people were holding him against his will, causing him unimaginable suffering and making him relive his worst fears made Alin shake with a dangerous anger.

Jensen and Kirkland had no fucking idea what they were dealing with.

Of all the people in the word, Tsvetan was the most deserving of anyone's love. It was just Alin who felt he could not be loved back.

It was startling, frightening, and Alin didn't know what to do. Yes, he was in love with Tsvetan and, it would seem, had been so for a while now, but Tsvetan deserved better. There was nothing else for it. Alin would save Tsvetan, get him back on his feet, pay for a professional therapist to get him half sane again, then leave. Just go far away where he could never hurt anyone he cared for again.

Yes, Alin like that plan.

All he had to do now was raise to money to pay for Tsvetan Borisov's life.


	15. Disguise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for scenes of torture in this chapter.

"We need to get you a disguise," Katya frowned, placing both hands on her hips. It was quarter to seven in the morning and the young woman stood over her two overnight guests, who were sprawled on the sofa, none too pleased about being woken up so early. Ed looked tired, but relatively pleased, wrapped up in a fuzzy dressing gown and slippers whilst Alin felt drained from his sleepless night. He saw in a mirror that his hair was dishevelled and there were bags under his eyes, standing out particularly strong against pale, greying skin. God he was a mess nowadays.

But there were things to do!

"What kind?" Alin knew she was right. He probably had the whole city on the lookout for him by now. If he was going to raise money for Tsvetan's release, it would not be as himself.

"Don't know yet," Katya shrugged, "I phoned an expert earlier and he's coming round with come clothes and a packet of hair dye for you. I told him everything too, so now we have someone else on our side!"

"Expert?" Alin wrinkled his nose, "it better not be old man Vargas' rude little fuck of a grandson. I don't care how much of a fashion-specialist-guy he is, I just don't want to deal with him."

"Who? Lovino?" Katya shook her head, "no, I meant Toni."

"Oh good," they waited in silence for a few moments, Alin once more retorting to picking at his sleeves.

There was a knock on the door and Katya bounced out of the room to answer it, returning a few minutes later with Antonio, arms laden with bin-bags full of clothes.

"So," he began, "you're innocent, huh?"

"That's already old news," Alin waved a hand airily; "try to keep up, will you?"

"Thought as much," Antonio dumped the bags down and pulled out a small cardboard box covered in blond portraits, "might as well get straight to business. First: hair dye!"

"Blond?" Alin took the box and wrinkled his nose, "are you serious? When have you ever seen a blond Romanian?"

"Exactly!" cried Toni, "we're trying to make you  _not_  match the descriptions in the news, right?"

"But I like my brown hair." Alin pouted, "will it even change colour? It's pretty dark! Besides, even if it works, the second I open my mouth, everyone's gonna know I'm not American!"

"Well people will just think it's a random accent from fuck-knows-where," reasoned Toni, "now get in the bathroom! We could probably trim and neaten your hair while we're at it."

"Oh I can hardly wait," muttered Alin.

…

"This is every shade of wrong," Alin glared at his reflection, still not used to his new hair.

"Hey I worked hard on it!" cried Toni, "oh, and everyone keep an eye on him in case he has an allergic reaction and explodes or something. Shame there's no time to actually test it, but you have to wait a few days for that. Maybe I should have read the instructions more carefully."

"How is this guy a professional?" Alin asked Katya, who shrugged.

"He was just the first person who came to mind."

"Oh," Alin groaned, resting his forehead on the mirror.

"Now," Eduard clapped his hands, "on to clothes, right?"

"Of course!" Toni began pulling a shirt and pants from his bag, "I picked these cause they seemed to be something you wouldn't wear."

"Are they things  _anyone_  would wear?" Alin raised his eyebrow at the shirt. It was an ugly hot-pink and neon-green striped, ruffled affair; "where did you even get it?"

"Charity shop," Toni shrugged, "wore it at a fancy-dress party once and it's been hiding in my closet ever since."

"They must have seen you coming a mile off when they sold you that. So you're just looking for an excuse to get rid of your old outfits?" demanded Alin.

"Two birds, one stone."

"I'm not wearing it."

"Okay, how about borrowing some of  _my_ clothes," suggested Katya.

"That could work," replied Alin, "our hair's about the same length now and it might be fun to be a girl for a bit. No one will suspect me then!"

"Great," Katya clapped her hands, "I'll just get a dress, tights, razors, makeup a bra and lots of tissue paper, because you won't fill out my bras as you are. Oh, watch out for the tissue paper; it'll probably itch real badly. I wouldn't know; I don't need it."

There was a pause before Alin spoke again, "oh just give me the damn shirt; I don't have the strength to be a woman!"

"That's better," Toni grinned and handed over the wretched shirt, black pants and a pair of sunglasses, "to hide your unusual eyes."

"Now go get dressed whilst I think up an excuse not to go into work," Katya waved a hand; "I think you'll be needing all the help you can get."

"You'll do that for me?" Alin gave a small smile.

"It's Friday," Katya shrugged, "the kids won't even notice I'm gone. I'll just tell the principal I have a heavy cold."

"Thanks guys," Alin grinned sheepishly.

"That's okay," replied Ed, "now go put on your disguise!"

…

"I don't know why you're bothering," Tsvetan glared in the general direction of the man in front of him, "Alin will be long gone by now. He's probably on a plane back to Romania as we speak. What makes you think he cares about me at all?"

Aleksander Jensen glared at him, leaning back in his own chair. The pair were in the attic where Tsvetan was being held. Light shifted in through the grimy windows, throwing shadows across the room, not that Tsvetan saw them. He couldn't see anything, due to the blindfold, and hadn't been able to since the night he was taken. It terrified him. He couldn't be sure where his captors were, and was constantly on edge. That constant level of fear hurt him, and messed with his head.

Every morning, Aleksander would visit, just to torment him, to injure him some more. The beatings were now routine, as were the death threats. It was always at a different time in the morning though, so he couldn't predict them. Sometimes, Aleksander would pretend he'd had enough of Tsvetan, and claim he was going to kill him there and then, before suddenly deciding against it before he went through with the execution. By then, Tsvetan was usually a crying mess.

Rose hardly ever visited, but when she did… well, Tsvetan didn't care to reflect on that.

"I wouldn't be so sure," the man replied, "I believe Rose and I left you both long enough for him to develop some moral conscience. His guilt will bring him crawling back."

"Heh," Tsvetan gave a humourless chuckle; he still refused to be scared of Aleks, no matter what happened to him. That man had taken away his freedom, his control and his dignity, but Tsvetan just couldn't let him know he'd won. "I know hi-"

"You foolish little man," Aleksander stood up, leaning over Tsvetan, "you've not known him as long as we have."

"That doesn't matter," Tsvetan shrugged as best he could through the ropes binding him, "he's changed since you last saw him! He's good now! Not good enough to stay but-"

"You've never seen him at his worst," continued Aleks, "I've seen him when he was furious, uncontrollable, and full of murderous hatred."

"That's not Alin," Tsvetan whispered, not daring to believe such things about his friend, "he's kind! He wouldn't…"  _hurt anyone?_  No, they had to be lies! Jensen and Kirkland were just trying to terrify him further by making him doubt whatever hope he had.

Aleks laughed, "what? You thought he was some harmless little eccentric?"

Tsvetan didn't- couldn't- answer that. "Oh please," Aleks scoffed, "he was maiming and killing while you still sat in school reading. He could wield a knife, carve people up, disfigure and mar before you'd had your first kiss!"

"He's changed!" Tsvetan yelped when a fist collided with his right eye, but he didn't cower.

He was done being scared of these people.

"What you're doing isn't fair!" he cried, "why are you hurting people for no reason?" He stopped, feeling pathetic and childish for even saying it. He was scared too. What would Jensen do now?

"Fair?" Aleksander's eyes turned cold, "want to know what's not fair? Seeing your little brother lying in hospital too weak to move or even speak! You've never seen the pain in a child's eye as they tried to understand what was happening to them. You've never had someone close to you pass away before their time, huh, Borisov? You've never held their hand as they slipped into the other world!"

Tsvetan remained silent. Aleksander growled, drawing a knife and pressing it to his prisoner's throat.

"Have you?" he spat.

"N-no," Tsvetan admitted.

"Didn't think so," Aleksander walked slowly to the other side of the room, "so don't talk to me about 'fair'. Why should you get away when my darling little Erikur couldn't? Why should anyone live when he couldn't?" He paused for a moment, regarding the young man with interest, "it's pathetic, you know. Your silly little feelings."

"Don't we all have feelings at some point? I feel many things every day."

"I mean your feelings for the Romanian," clarified Aleksander, "that's why you say he'll run away: because you want him to. You want him to be safe and don't care for your own life. Feeble, wretched,  _pathetic_." He practically spat the last word.

"Not really," Tsvetan gave a small smile, "better to want people protected and happy than damaged and hurt." He felt a knife whizz past his face, missing him by inches and embedding itself in the wall behind, and felt his confidence diminish.

"He'll come crawling back," Aleksander predicted, "and without your money too. It's quite easy to track his next move. Shame, he used to be so interesting, entertaining, even."

"He'll get the damn money," Tsvetan growled. Why did Aleksander do this? Just come up to his attic and taunt him. What good could it possibly do?

"I really, really doubt that," Aleksander gave a minute, knowing smile.

"Why? You and Kirkland would rather have a dead body instead of money?" Tsvetan raised his eyebrows, and flinched when Aleks wandered over and patted the side of his face.

"My dear boy," he purred, "that's exactly what we want. Or even better: two dead bodies."


	16. Fooling the crowd

'How exactly are we gonna make money?' Alin looked around at the other three expectantly, 'I don't have anything to sell; suitcase and stock are back in my apartment.' Alin, Eduard, Katya and Antonio were standing in the same swarming, busy market Alin and Tsvetan frequented, hidden between a clothes stall and a guy selling hot dogs from his van. The smell of onions, leather, burgers, old books and donuts filled his nose, a surprisingly comforting scent. It gave him a sense of familiarity, as if things were almost back to normal.

Ha, normal. Alin wondered what that even meant to him anymore.

'What about your magic?' suggested Antonio.

Alin shrugged, 'all that's gone too. Don't even have a deck of cards.' He pulled up the collar of the long, purple coat Katya had provided to keep out the cold so that his neck was protected from the crisp breeze. It wasn't that chilly, if Alin was completely honest with himself, but he still found his outfit a little embarrassing.

'Hmm,' Antonio scratched his chin, 'hold on a moment,' he ducked past them and disappeared into the mass of shoppers, the guitar case on his back acting like the periscope of a submarine.

'So what now?' Alin asked.

'We could try busking,' suggested Eduard, cleaning his glasses with his scarf.

'Can anyone here sing?' Alin glanced from Eduard to Katya, who both grinned.

'Do you know how many karaoke awards we've won in our time?' boasted Eduard.

'No I fuckin' don't,'

'Many,' Eduard chuckled, shaking his head, 'anyway, since Antonio has his guitar, we could try that.'

'Sure, why not?' Alin shrugged, grinning. Him and Tsvetan loved singing together and would belt out whatever songs came on their little, cheap radio that sat in their kitchen and sing along to every musical they watched. Alin himself wasn't the best, but Tsvetan could hit all the right notes; singing seemed to be something he was born to do. If his life had been different, Tsvetan could've become a famous singer, earning millions. The young man felt a pang in his chest at the loss of his friend; would Tsvetan ever sing again? Would he be able to bring himself to?

Alin pushed those thoughts out of his head, now was not the time for upsetting himself, and put on a grin.

'Shall we wait for Toni?' he asked.

'That would seem logical,' replied Eduard, 'he'd only get lost if we moved and we can't do anything without him.'

'We might want to plan for next week though,' suggested Katya, 'we all have jobs, you know.'

'I'm aware,' Alin rolled his eyes.

'So from Monday onwards you're on your own,' she warned, 'I can't let my kids down by not turning up.'

'Understood,'

'And Ed and Toni have work too,'

'They work night shifts,' Alin pointed out, 'so would be free during the day, right?'

'Yes but I have to sleep sometime you know,' Eduard reminded him.

'Oh, right,' Alin grinned, 'on my own, huh? Don't really like the sound of that… still, only four days.'

'You'll be fine,' Katya assured him, rubbing his upper arm soothingly.

'Cheers,' Alin blushed slightly, looking away.

'Hey I'm back!' Antonio ducked into their little hiding place, proudly holding up a small deck of cards, 'got these for you!'

'Wow thanks,' Alin took the packet and ripped the plastic covering off, then opened the box and allowed the cards to spill into his hand. He shuffled them, rifled through them, got used to the feel of them in his hands. His fingers danced through the deck, taking in every detail, their new, plastic-y smell, the sound they made when he ran his forefinger across their edges, a sea of red, black and white. Yes, it felt good to have his ability to do magic tricks back again. It made him feel powerful, mysterious, and that he would be able to manipulate people again. He liked doing that. Tricking people. Fooling people. Not the ones who were trying to help him, of course, just the ones who would only be of use when fooled. And by that he meant he would make people believe he was a magician again, in order to get money from them. Money for Tsvetan's freedom and life.

'This… this means a lot to me,' he told Antonio, and truly meant it, 'here, let me show you how I made a living with these.' He flashed a wicked grin, and was about to walk into the street when Katya stopped him.

'Couldn't we do the singing first?' she requested, 'I mean, I've only got until Monday, right? And you have all week to do the magic tricks,' she looked away, blushing, 'you can still show off your card tricks, but… I've never sung for money before, and I want to see how people like my voice.'

'Course,' Alin grinned, wrapping his arm around her neck, 'stick with me and your dreams will come true!'

He slipped the deck into his coat pocket; the cards could wait.

…

'You'd think there'd be at least one song all four of us know,' Alin whined, crouching down behind the box Antonio was sitting on. The young Spaniard and Katya were singing a duet of some romantic song from a movie Alin hadn't seen, and never planned to. Eduard was sprawled next to him, eating a chicken kebab. Apparently, it was lunch time for him and Eduard liked to stick to his schedule.

'Hey we all have different tastes,' the computer programmer shrugged, 'and we're pretty much limited to what Antonio knows on the guitar anyway.'

'True,' Alin sighed blissfully, closing his eyes to focus on the music and laughter and chatter, at peace for a moment, 'he's pretty good-lookin',' Alin commented, glancing back at Antonio, 'do you think people would pay just to stare at him for a bit?'

Eduard laughed. 'Maybe. Are you suggesting we whore him out?'

'If we have to,' Alin replied jokingly.

'I doubt it'll come to that,' Eduard thought for a moment, 'maybe we should split up.'

'This isn't Scooby doo,' Alin shot back.

'No, honestly,' Eduard sighed, 'I'm sure between you and Antonio you can raise a fair bit by yourselves. Maybe Katya and I could collect money elsewhere.'

'I dunno,' Alin shrugged, 'yes, you make a good point and it'd be the smart thing to do, but I don't wanna be left alone with Toni. He's way better lookin' than me; at least if you're around I don't feel as insecure.'

'Excuse me you little-'

'I was joking!' cried Alin, laughing, 'what I mean to say is if I was to do a few magic tricks later, I'd be far more comfortable with Katya as my assistant instead of Antonio. May you can take him and raise more money and I'll stay here with Katya. She seems happy here anyway.'

Eduard stared at him with an expression of disbelief; 'if you think for one moment I'd leave my girlfriend with the likes of  _you_ , you have another thing coming.'

'How very rude and offending,' Alin pouted, 'I'm perfectly trustworthy. And besides, after this is all over I plan to engage in a monogamous relationship with a certain young Bulgarian, if he'll take me. Which he probably won't…' Alin sighed, suddenly feeling down, 'so I'm not going to try to steal Katya from you.'

'I see,' Eduard was silent for a moment, 'so… you really do care for him  _that_  way then?'

'Yeah, you're not grossed out or anything-?'

'You've met my cousin and his husband, right?' Eduard raised an eyebrow, 'I love Tino as much as the rest of my family and adore Berwald and their children. I'm not as judgemental as you think I am.'

'Right, sorry.'

'Still not leaving you alone with Katya,'

'I don't fancy her!' exclaimed Alin.

'It's not that,' Eduard seemed to be choosing his words carefully, 'it's just you seem to radiate bad luck and everyone around you gets affected. And I'm worried Katya would get hurt if I'm not at least nearby. I mean, look at what happened with Tsvetan…'

'Low, but you're right,' Alin sighed, 'it's just, being my assistant would involve wit, and I don't think Toni has much of that. Besides, he'd also need to be a lookout, and that involves a lot of awareness.'

'Oh give him a chance,' Eduard rolled his eyes, 'Toni's not an idiot.'

'What's this?' Antonio turned around and sat down, resting his guitar on his lap.

'Here, look,' Alin growled at Eduard before turning to Antonio, 'I bet I can make you turn your hands over without touching you.'

'Oh I know that trick,' Antonio grinned, 'Jan and Eva taught it to me. You ask someone to hold their hands out and go 'no, I meant the other way' so they'll turn their hands around.'

'Dammit,' Alin groaned as Eduard burst out laughing.

'I told you he wasn't an idiot,' the computer programmer hissed.

Alin just shrugged, 'sorry. It's just Toni's always cheerful and over the years I've come to realise happy people are either stupid or hiding something.'

'Right,' Eduard rolled his eyes, 'so how did you two songbirds do? Sorry I wasn't able to offer my vocal chords, but I wasn't familiar with the songs you two were singing.'

'I don't think it would've mattered,' Antonio sighed, 'we didn't make much. Well, people threw a lot of spare change and cheered, but that's all it was,' he shrugged, 'came to about five dollars fifty.'

'That all?' Alin felt a cold dread staring to rise inside of him; there was no way they'd raise enough in a week.

'It's a start, and we won't be earning all the money this way,' Katya assured him, 'we'll manage, trust me.'

'Cheers,' Alin flashed her a grin.

'If the worst come to worst,' continue Katya, 'I could always just get my jugs out.'

Eduard blushed, 'well, if you're offering…' he said jokingly.

'Ah that won't be necessary, Katya,' Alin butted in, 'but thanks for the offer,'

Katya giggled, 'glad I could cheer you up.'

'Why would people pay to see jugs?' asked Antonio, 'they're just big glasses.'

'No, Toni, she means-'

'Now that I think about it,' continued Antonio, 'we could always sell drinks to people. You know, set up a little lemonade stall here or something.'

'You know,' Alin rubbed his chin, 'that's not actually a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all…'

'Maybe we could sell food as well,' added Antonio, 'I'm not too bad with an oven, and Francis can help too. And our food will definitely be better than the rest of the stuff here.'

'In what way?' asked Eduard cynically.

'It won't have a good chance of giving you food poisoning,' exclaimed Antonio, 'market food is always dodgy.'

'I wish you'd mentioned that before I bought a donor kebab and fries,' mumbled Eduard, throwing the empty package in a nearby bin. Antonio grinned apologetically and Eduard shook his head, 'anyway, shall we split up?' he asked Antonio and Katya, 'I was thinking that Alin and Toni will be fine here for a while longer. Maybe we could try asking everyone we know for donations, huh, Katya?'

'But I'm having so much fun here!' she whined.

'We'll be back tomorrow,' Eduard assured her, 'it's just I think Alin might break down if we don't collect more than five dollars today.'

'Fair enough,' Katya dusted herself down and stood up, 'see ya then.'

'Goodbye,' Antonio waved enthusiastically, 'nice singing with ya!'

'And you!' Katya pulled Eduard to his feet and the couple disappeared into the crowd. Alin stretched, turning to Antonio.

'Know anything about card tricks?' he asked, yawning.

'Not much,' Antonio admitted.

'Never mind,' Alin shrugged, 'don't need much knowledge to be my assistant. Tsvetan managed alright, though he was kind of a shitty lookout.'

'What are we meant to be looking out for?' Antonio enquired.

'Cops,' replied Alin, 'though that was mainly when we were selling things that were stolen. Can't get arrested for performing street magic, right?'

'Right,'

'So,' Alin tied his now blond hair into a little ponytail in an attempt to disguise it further, 'want to make people believe in magic?'

…

'Now I'll need a volunteer from the audience,' Alin told the gathered crowd, scanning the area for Antonio. Sure enough, the young man was amongst his audience, as planned, 'ah,' he called, pointing at his assistant, 'you'll do!' Antonio stepped forward, pretending to be excited at being called up. Then again, knowing Antonio, he was probably genuinely excited about being part of the performance.  _Just like Tsvetan was the first few times_ , Alin added, cursing his own morbid thoughts.

'Now, I want you to pick a card, any card,' Alin spread the deck out, faces down, in his gloved hands, 'look at it without showing me, and show the audience too,' Antonio did as instructed, grinning like a small child, 'now put it back in the deck.' When Antonio had tucked it in amongst the others, Alin shuffled them, swinging his arms behind his back to shuffle again, then blowing gently on the deck before taking the top one and holding it to Antonio's eyes.

'Ten of clubs; that your card?'

'Si!' cried Antonio, snatching the card and holding it up for the audience to see, 'would you look at that?'

Most of the audience cheered, but a few looked cynical.

'How'd ya do it?' one kid yelled.

'It's all fake,' their father replied, 'probably wasn't even a real volunteer.'

'Piss off!' Alin called back, 'it's all genuine!'

'Yeah right,'

'I can assure you I've never seen this gentleman before in my life,' Alin continued, 'right, sir?'

'Course we haven't, Al,' replied Antonio, grin instantly replaced by a look of horror when he realised what he'd done. The crowd groaned, hurling abuse at the pair before dispersing. Alin watched in despair before turning on his friend.

'Come here,' he said calmly, beckoning with a finger.

Antonio shook his head, 'I'm sorry!'

'What the fuck is wrong with you?' Alin growled.

'I wasn't thinking!' Antonio cried, backing away.

'Do you ever think?' Alin scoffed.

'Yes!' Antonio sighed, 'I was just happy to be doing something interesting for once and I got a bit carried away.'

'A bit?' Alin raised an eyebrow, 'I've never seen someone get that happy over cards before. Don't you get any excitement in that pub of yours?'

'Not really,' admitted Antonio, 'just fights and drunk people. Hardly glamorous.'

'True,' Alin grinned, 'no hard feelings, okay? We'll just try again somewhere else.'

'Cheers,' Antonio pulled Alin into a hug, 'come on, there's still a few hours of daylight left.'


	17. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for torture scenes and mentions of asphyxiation in this chapter.

Alin poked and picked at the window at the back of the house, willing it to open. Shame on Heracles for not investing in a burglar alarm. Silly students.

Not that Alin was a burglar, of course. He wasn't  _that_  desperate just yet.

It was late Tuesday evening now and he had to say their efforts were going, well, swimmingly. After deciding that, if they wanted to continue singing for money, everyone would need to know the same set of songs, Alin, Katya, Ed and Toni had sat at Ed's computer for the whole of Friday evening sharing their favourite songs. Alin had really enjoyed the evening and learning new Estonian/Ukrainian/Spanish songs and sharing some of his favourite artists. He'd managed to turn Ed into a huge Akcent fan too.

The weekend had passed by too quickly for his liking. It had been fun singing, dancing and performing with the others and had almost been enough to take his mind off of things. Almost. Today and yesterday he'd been on his own, except for a few hours with Antonio Monday evening. The others had been a distraction, and now there was nothing to stop him thinking about how he might well end up performing on his own if everything went wrong. He'd probably end up being too miserable to work again, spending his last days lying in a gutter desperately attempting to drink away the crushing feelings of guilt and loss. He needed Tsvetan back.

Altogether, the money earned, coupled with generous donations from friends (Toris, Tino, Francis and old man Vargas had given hundreds of dollars each, well, leant it to them) and collections from Toni and Ivan's bars had brought their total up to $5,500 out of the $10,000 needed to free Tsvetan. This had brought mixed feelings for Alin as, although he'd never thought they would make it that far, it was still a long way from the total. Two days left. That was all. Alin wondered how he was supposed to find $4,500 in that time. Maybe he  _would_  have to resort to burglary.

The reason he found himself in Heracles' back garden was simply to check there were no hard feelings between them. Alin knew only too well the consequences of getting on the wrong side of a killer- it was why he was in this mess- and guessed Hera knew too. The man must be terrified! Especially when Alin was 'still at large', as the police put it, so Hera had no idea where the man he'd condemned was.

Said man was in his garden right now.

Alin forced the window open and quietly congratulated himself. Sure, he could've used the door, but he doubted anyone would answer to him. And he was always one for doing things in an elaborate fashion.

One leg inside, one leg out. Alin cast a final glance around the garden before throwing himself into the room. He stumbled, falling flat on the carpet, and hauled himself up, brushing down his coat. Okay, that could have been more graceful…

"Hera?" he hissed, slamming the window shut, "hey, you here?" he peered around the darkened living room he found himself in. It was empty, abandoned even. Alin noted the half empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, the dust on the bookshelves and the games console left out on the floor. The place was messy, as if it had been evacuated in a hurry and Alin would usually dismiss it as 'those goddamn messy students', if Kiku hadn't been one of the cleanest, most organised people he knew.

Something wasn't right, and it made Alin feel pretty wary indeed. He made his way towards the hall, eyes still not entirely used to the dimness, intending to check the upstairs of the house.

"Kiku?" he hissed, peering into the hall, "Stelios?"

"They're not here," answered a gruff voice behind him. Alin wheeled round to find Sadik sprawled on the sofa, glass of red wine in hand, glaring at him with an expression of disgust and hate.

"Woah, didn't see ya there," Alin laughed nervously, "where are the others?"

"Safe house," Sadik grunted, taking another sip of wine, "under witness protection."

"Witness protection?" Alin raised an eyebrow, "how come?"

"So you don't kill them out of revenge or silencing, like you did with Tsvetan. Heracles pointed the cops in your direction, so he, Kiku and Stelios were moved so you wouldn't come back and murder them."

Alin groaned, "not this shit again. Look, I don't want to kill anyone! I've never killed anyon-" Alin looked away, "I never killed Tsvetan!"

"Hesitation?" Sadik watched him with a guarded expression, "Tsvetan was my friend! Okay, maybe not, but he was  _your_  friend! Why the fuck did you do it?"

"I didn't," Alin sighed, "there would be no reason to!"

Sadik still didn't believe him. The taller, larger man stood up, using the wine bottle as a weapon, and moved towards Alin, staggering slightly, "I'm gonna have to turn you in. Why else would you be here? You were planning to kill Hera and probably Kiku and Stelios too. Kiku is one of my greatest friends! The fact that you would even consider hurting him…!" He aimed a swipe at Alin's head, but the young man ducked, diving past Sadik and almost falling over the coffee table.

"You little shit," growled Sadik, wheeling round, "you're only making this harder on yourself!" He dived at Alin again, who climbed over the sofa and threw himself on the floor. He found himself in a corner and turned to face Sadik, the man's eyes were of anger and fear. Surely he did think Alin actually entered the house with the intention of killing? It would appear so…

"Fine!" he snapped, "I give up. You can knock me out or strangle me or whatever you plan to do to keep me out of it long enough to call the police, on one condition."

"No conditions!" growled Sadik, "and I'm not even sure simply hitting is good enough for someone like you. Maybe I should kill you like you killed our friend."

"All I'm asking," gushed Alin, raising his hands in surrender, "is for one minute. Just give me a minute to explain myself. Tsve is alive, okay? But he's in big trouble and I'm trying to help him."

"Borisov is… alive?" Sadik shook his head, "nah, you're lying! It said on the news you two had an argument and you murdered him!"

"I know," Alin sighed, "but it's not true."

"Then where is Tsvetan, hmm?"

"In… a bad place."

"You'll have to try better than that."

"Then give me a chance to explain," cried Alin, "from the beginning."

"You have a habit of tricking people and messing with their heads," noted Sadik, "I'm sure everything that comes out of your mouth will be untruths. Convincing, influential, but false nonetheless."

"I've changed!" Alin tried.

"Bullshit!"

"Okay, maybe," Alin shrugged, "but I'm definitely changing. I cannot see any benefits in lying now. You will just see through them. Come on, what's one minute to you? Give a condemned man a chance!" Alin wasn't sure whether he meant him or Tsvetan in that last sentence.

"Fine," growled Sadik, "say what you have to say."

Alin quickly explained the main events of the past few weeks, leaving out the assassin, Natalya's deal and his affairs with Jensen and Kirkland, but making sure to linger on his description of Tsvetan tied to a chair. He needed to tug on Sadik's heartstrings enough to convince the man to let him go. And since Sadik and Tsvetan weren't on the best terms, he needed to do a considerable amount of tugging.

"They what?" gasped Sadik.

"Yup," Alin grimaced from the thought, "he's in pretty bad shape."

"And you have a week to get ten thousand bucks or they kill him?"

"That's right," Alin nodded, then frowned, "well, two days now."

"And you have… how much?"

"Just over half;" Alin cringed at how pathetic that sounded.

"Not good enough!" cried Sadik, "are you even trying?"

"I'd like to see  _you_  collect that much," Alin pouted, glaring at the taller man.

"Well, I'm sure something will turn up," Sadik shook his head, falling onto the couch in shock, "but why would anyone want to abduct Tsvetan? He's about as offending as kids' telly. Such a polite boy… bit of a temper, but, in all honesty, you were the most likely of the pair to get taken away and murdered."

"I thought it'd be me too," Alin decided to stay next to the wall; Tsvetan wasn't the only one with a temper, "well, it was because of me though. I'd pissed off Rose and Aleksander a while back and this… was kind of their revenge."

"So if he dies it really will be your fault?" Sadik demanded, "give me one reason why I shouldn't smash this bottle in your face!"

"Well," Alin giggled nervously, "one, I'm too pretty for that shit. Two, it's a bit of a dick move. Three, there's still wine in the bottle; why waste it? And four: how would that help Tsve in any way?"

"You're right," Sadik sighed, sitting back in the chair, "and I said one reason."

"So what are you doing here?" Alin inquired, "didn't think you and Hera liked each other enough that you'd have access to his house. Or was I not the only one climbing in through the window?"

"House sitting for Kiku;" replied Sadik, "and looking after that dog-rabbit-gerbil thing that follows him around."

"Oh," Alin looked around, "where _is_  Poochi?"

Sadik's smile fell off his face, "no fucking idea! You didn't kill it, did you?"

"And again with the accusations!" cried Alin, "no I didn't kill the puffball on legs. So, I'll be on my way. If you see Hera, tell him I'm not after his blood, or any part of him," Alin gave a final nod and tried to shuffle over to the window, but Sadik stopped him.

"Hang on," he grunted, reaching into his wallet, "here's twenty for Tsvetan's ransom."

"That all?" Alin raised an eyebrow, "you cheap old fuck-face!"

"I have five hundred in the bank," continued Sadik, "if I come round later with it, do you promise to pay me back?"

"O-of course," Alin broke into a grin, pulling Sadik into a crushing hug, "wow thank you so much! That would bring the total to around six thousand! I'm crashing at Katya's place so just stop by there whenever you like. Just… thanks, for believing in me."

Sadik shrugged, "it's not for you; it's for Borisov."

"Of course, thanks anyway," then Alin reopened the window and disappeared through it.

…

"Oh, and then there was that fourteen year old who wanted to impress his friends, so he asked us for money to buy a games consol," Rose glanced at Tsvetan with gleaming eyes; she loved telling him the truth about his friend's past, since Alin wasn't here to deny it, "and you really should read the small print for such a deal, but he didn't and couldn't pay the interest we set him. It was fair warning really. In the end, we had to drag him into an alley and kick the shit out of him. It was terrible, blood everywhere. Only kind to put him out of his misery; Radacanu pulled the trigger, you know?"

"Don't believe it," gasped Tsvetan, gritting his teeth.

"Now, now," Rose wandered over to him and patted his cheek, an action he flinched away from, "don't go accusing me of lying, or we'll have to do something about that."

"Yes ma'am," Tsvetan spat, shaking. He didn't like Rose; she was far more vicious than Aleksander, though her visits were rarer. She'd beat him for longer, and with more creative weapons too. Once she put a plastic bag over his head and tied it tightly around his neck, so he quickly ran out of air. He was quickly reduced to a state of complete panic, screaming and struggling before it was finally removed. She still didn't take his blindfold off.

Every now and then, Rose would do a random act of kindness too, and it scared him. It scared him because he couldn't find out her motives, and because he found himself being drawn to her, thinking that pleasing her would make her be kind again.

Make the pain stop.

"Excellent," Rose took a few steps backwards, "now I know you think Alin's some misguided saint, but he's not. He's cruel, brutal and sadistic, like us. Say you both walk away from this, say you both go back to doing whatever meaningless things you do, will it end there? No! Alin has a nasty streak he can't hide from. It'll kill you.  _He'll_  kill you. Maybe not directly- though that is likely- but his actions will lead to your downfall. And if not yours, then someone else you care about."

"No," Tsvetan shook his head, "he changed! He got out of the bad place and you can too! We can help you."

Rose hissed, and lashed out at him. Tsvetan cried in pain, tears once again forming in his eyes. Now was not the time for putting on a brave face and he shook harder, nails digging into the wooden chair as he glanced up fearfully. Rose just smirked, wiping skin and blood off her fingernails, which had left four large gashes on the young man's cheek. Then she punched him in the stomach, for good measure, before smiling sweetly.

"Sorry about that," she said, "my temper got the better of me. That shan't happen again," she stroked his hair slowly, "sweet boy. Don't worry; I won't hurt you any more, if you behave."

Tsvetan didn't reply, and she just left him, walking out of the room and downstairs into the large hall, footsteps echoing as she glided over the wooden floor. Overhearing soft, tinkling music coming from the drawing room, she headed to the ajar door and peeked in.

Aleksander and Natalya were doing a simple duet on the piano, backs facing her, and giving each other small, reassuring smiles. Rose frowned, and stepped inside, coughing.

"Yes?" asked Aleksander, turning around.

"I need to talk to you," replied Rose, "alone," she added, shooting Natalya a warning glare. The girl nodded in understanding, glaring back as she stood up and left, pushing past Rose as she went.

"About what?" Aleksander stood up and moved to an armchair, "I assume everything is going well."

"Of course," Rose smiled, taking a seat opposite him, "young Mr. Borisov will be broken into tiny pieces in time for Thursday. Alin would allow us to kill him if he really cared about his friend's welfare. If that bastard even thought for a moment they could go away scot free…"

"No, if they both get out then our legacy must follow," agreed Aleksander.

"Speaking of legacy," began Rose, "what do you say to making this our last episode? Seems fitting that our little trio would get back together one final time."

"Retirement?" Aleksander's eyebrows shot up.

"In a way," Rose sighed, "I'm tired of the killing and the moving about and the blackmail. It bores me now and I want to try normal. I have a son who I have not seen since he was a baby. After we kill Radacanu, I plan to take Peter back and raise him, like I should have all along."

"I respect your choice," Aleksander told her, "thank you for telling me, and I wish you both the very best in everything you do."

"Come with us," requested Rose; "think about it, the three of us could be a normal family! You would be a wonderful father to Peter and a wonderful partner to me. Ditch the little Belarusian girl; she is meant to be a servant anyway! You can't be serious about spending time with her."

Aleksander scratched his chin, "I care for Natalya deeply," he said slowly, "but I care for you too, and your proposition is intriguing. Give me time to think about it."

"That is all I ask."


	18. Last few hours

'I left Peter a song,' Rose broke the silence between her and Aleksander, looking down at her hands as she sat on the sofa in a light green jumper and long skirt, but still looking elegant and neat. Her hair was tied into a messy bun and she was wearing minimal jewellery. Of course, she would look a lot different later that night. It was Thursday evening now, and behind them the sun slowly began to set through the window, disappearing behind the threes and casting an orange glow about the living room, 'the night I handed him over to Tino,' Rose continued to explain as Aleksander listened patiently, watching her with curious eyes as he leaned back in the sofa, once more dressed in a smart suit, 'I sang him a lullaby and left the lyrics with Tino and Berwald, telling them to sing it to him every night before he goes to sleep, so that he'll have something to remember me by.'

'I see,' Aleksander nodded slowly; Rose rarely talked about her son.

'I wonder if he would remember his mother's voice,' Rose shrugged gracefully, 'I wonder if Tino even did what I asked him to.'

'Most likely,' Aleksander paused for a moment, 'he and Berwald are good with children. And they would respect your wishes.'

'Have you made up your mind about coming with me?' Rose looked at him and arched an eyebrow, 'tonight's the big night. Tomorrow I'm visiting Tino and getting Peter back, whatever that jumped up little assassin has to say about it. Will you be with me then?'

'I'm still unsure,' Aleks sighed, 'it's an enormous decision.'

'Hardy,' Rose wrinkled her nose, 'me or her? Come on now lad; we haven't got all day.'

'It's a little more complicated than that and you know it,' Aleksander allowed himself a small smile, 'I have feelings for two people at the same time, and that on it's own is more emotion than I'm used to. And you are asking me to give up something I've spent a lifetime doing to settle down with a child that probably isn't mine.'

'Would the fact that Peter and yourself have no biological relation bother you?' Rose demanded.

'Not at all,' Aleksander raised a hand, 'sorry it came out like that. I'm merely stating that the new lifestyle would be a bit of a… shock to the system.'

'Accepted,' Rose bowed her head, 'I will give you more time to think of it. Though I must say, in all honesty, I fail to believe you have feelings for Natalya. Would you be holding her brother, Ivan's, life over her head if you did?'

Aleksander couldn't reply.

Natalya, who had been listening through the door the entire time, gave a small, wicked smile. Quietly as she could, the girl tiptoed down the corridor, back to the safety of one of the empty rooms. There was no way she would allow them to have a silly little 'happily ever after', not after what they'd done to her. It wasn't out of romantic jealously, as she'd lost all feelings for Aleksander a long time ago, but pure anger and hatred towards the pair, especially the man she used to care for. They'd threatened to kill her precious brother, one of the two people she cared most about in the world, and expected to get away with it? Did they really imagine that she would be okay with that? To just bow down to their demands? To obey them without a fuss? No, she would not allow that.

But how could she bring them down without her family getting hurt in the process?

…

'Well, it's time,' Alin took a deep breath to calm himself and looked from Katya to Eduard to Toni, waiting for their reactions. The four of them stood around Katya's dining table, where, sat right in the middle of them, was a suitcase- provided by Eduard- filled with eight thousand five hundred dollars in cash. It stared up at them, as if it were also waiting for their next move.

'How are we meant to get you there?' asked Eduard, 'there are cops everywhere. Apparently the situation's become a bit desperate and they're searching the area you were last sighed i.e. Eli's neighbourhood. We'll have to be careful.'

'I feel ill already,' Alin groaned.

'It'll be a breeze,' Toni assured him, 'come on, it's already five thirty!'

'It's a pretty long way to Eli's house,' Eduard commented, 'could be anything from forty-five minutes to an hour.'

'That's not so bad,' replied Alin.

'For us maybe,' Eduard took his glasses off to wipe them on his shirt, 'you'll be in the trunk.'

'What? Why?' Alin groaned.

'It's just to be safe,' Eduard assured him.

'Even with your disguise the cops could recognise you,' added Katya, 'come on,' she picked up the suitcase, closed it and passed it to Alin, 'it'll be better than you think.'

'I doubt that,' Alin mumbled, following his friends into the hall where they put on coats, tucked Alin's hair into a cap leant by Toni, and slipped out the door. Checking to see if the coast was clear, Katya walked quietly to her car and Alin followed, clutching the suitcase to his chest. Katya quietly opened the trunk and Alin climbed in as quickly as he could, squashed uncomfortably amongst blankets, tools and the suitcase, as well as other things he couldn't quite make out. Something with a sharp corner cut into his back and he hissed in annoyance; Katya just chuckled and shut the lid, shrouding him in darkness.

'It's a lovely evening,' Antonio commented, making polite conversation as he joined Katya, Eduard trailing behind.

'Yes,' Katya looked up. The sun was behind the houses now and the sky was streaked with orange, purple and grey. Katya wrapped her coat tighter around herself and got in behind the wheel whilst Eduard walked around to the passenger side and Antonio climbed in the back.

Most of the journey was uneventful. No one spoke, and Katya looked ahead as she drove. Antonio gazed out of the window whilst Eduard fiddled with the radio.

About ten minutes from Elizabeta's house, they saw warning signs on the sidewalk and police cars littered about. They came to a stop in front of another car, where the driver was leaning out of the window in conversation with a policeman. Katya's grip on the steering wheel tightened as the driver gave a final wave a drove off, leaving the policeman's attention solely on their car.

'Hey it's probably nothing,' Antonio assured her.

Eduard scratched his nose, hand covering his mouth in case the officer could lip-read and discretely whispered to Katya: 'if he searches the car we're fucked.'

Katya nodded trembling.

'Let's just pretend we have nothing to hide,' he removed his hand and shrugged, 'they probably want to ask a few questions, that's all. There's nothing he can arrest us for.'

Katya nodded and rolled down her window as the officer approached.

'Something the matter?' she asked innocently.

'Not at all miss,' replied the policeman, 'I want to say be on the lookout for a suspected murderer. I'm sure you've seen on the news-'

'Yes it's awful,' Katya shuddered, 'I hope you catch him and lock him up forever!'

'So do I,' the policeman sighed, 'just be careful, especially around this area. If you see anything suspicious, then please tell us.'

'Noted,' said Eduard, leaning forward slightly.

'So where are you two headed?'

'A friend's house,' replied Eduard, 'they're having a little get together.'

'I see,' the police officer eyed Antonio, who grinned back, 'is he with you?'

'Yeah,' Katya glanced around nervously, 'he's our… son.'

The officer looked back, arching an eyebrow, 'your son?'

Katya turned round to look at a confused Antonio, then turned back to the police officer, 'okay, I'll tell you the truth; he's not our son. He's our…'

'Don't say he's your brother,'

'He's our friend,' Eduard explained, 'we're just giving him a lift, that's all.'

'Really?' the officer raised an eyebrow, 'why didn't you say that before?'

'I panicked, okay?' cried Katya, 'you're scary and I couldn't think straight! I've been under a lot of stress what with my students who are out of control and so damn stupid! Plus my brother's being irritating and my sister's stopped talking to me and I never have time because of work and I just want to relax and go to a damn party!' she seemed close to tears now, breathing quickly and rocking back and forth slightly. The officer looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

'Well, I shan't be keeping you then,' he said, taking a few steps back from the car and gestured for them to continue. Katya nodded and drove off, not saying a word, just concentrating on the road.

For a few minutes, there was silence, then Eduard spoke up.

'If you… ever feel stressed,' be began, 'then just tell me and I'll try to make things easier for you.'

'That's so sweet of you,' Katya turned to him and smiled, 'but I'm actually fine. I just got a bit scared he'd search the car and thought that the cop wouldn't want to deal with someone who was upset and crying. It worked, didn't it?'

'That was all an act?' Eduard grinned, 'that was amazing! Wow you're brilliant, I just, I love you!'

Katya's smile fell and she swerved to avoid a car coming towards them.

'Eye's on the road!' cried Antonio, hugging his knees, 'who says that to someone when they're driving?' he hissed, glaring at Eduard.

Katya pulled over to the side of the road, and stared at Eduard in shock, not saying anything. Eduard squirmed under her gaze.

'I'm sorry,' he mumbled, 'I didn't mean to-'

'You said you love me,' Katya stated numbly, 'is it true?' she was shaking slightly.

'I err-' Eduard looked away.

'Yes!' cried Antonio, 'he loves you! He's crazy about you! get it together Ed; it's not  _that_  hard to say it.'

'Really?' asked Katya.

Eduard sighed, 'yes. I… I love you, Yekaterina Braginskaya.'

'I love you too,' replied Katya, 'Eduard Von Brock.'

'You do?' Eduard smiled warmly and pulled Katya into a hug, kissing her cheek, to which Katya responded with a kiss on his lips, almost knocking off his glasses.

'Yes, yes,' Antonio rolled his eyes, 'can we please go now? We're a bit short for time, you know?'

'Of course,' Katya broke away and started the car again. The rest of the journey was uneventful, and soon they were outside Roderich and Elizabeta's house. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, Katya opened the trunk and helped a battered and bruised Alin out and shepherded him to the porch before he could start complaining about the journey.

Eduard rapped on the door and it was soon answered by Roderich, who nodded and let them in, blinking in shock at the number of people gathered in his hallway.

'I wasn't expecting so many of you,' he stated, shutting the door.

'Yeah sorry,' Alin scratched the back of his head, 'these guys kinda helped me a lot this past week so it would be a shame for them to miss out now.'

'Fair enough,' Roderich lead them into the sitting room, where Elizabeta was curled up on the couch reading a story to Franz, who was half buried by pillows and his mother's skirt. Alin plopped down next to them and Elizabeta sighed.

'Hello,' she said through gritted teeth, 'so how short did you fall of your target?'

'Only one thousand five hundred,' Alin grimaced.

'Oh, that's not so bad,' Elizabeta blinked, 'I thought we'd be paying half or something.'

'Nah you're good,' Alin lay back in the couch and everyone else made themselves comfortable, 'so what happens now?'

'I'll pop to the bank,' said Roderich, 'then we just wait until it's time.'

Alin groaned, 'I don't think I can last much long; the tension's killing me!'

'Calm down,' Elizabeta stated as Roderich left.

'If I could don't you think I would've by now?' Alin shot her a glare.

'You need to stay composed and attentive,' Eduard told him, 'you'll need your wits about you.'

'I know,' Alin turned his glare on the young man.

'We're only trying to help,' Antonio sniffed.

'I know,' Alin sighed, 'I'm just so nervous.'

'Don't be,' exclaimed Katya, 'you've done everything you can, now there's just one more challenge and you're done.'

'Yes, but I'm scared of going back to the place,' Alin rubbed his nose, shuddering slightly, 'I'm scared of seeing what state Tsve's in, and I'm terrified of seeing  _those people_  again. They're up to something; I just know it.'

'You'll be fine,' Katya assured him, 'just think, this time tomorrow you'll be back home, in your own home, with your name cleared, starting a new life with Tsvetan. You're going to help him through all the effects of his ordeal and you will be there for him! Take him to therapy sessions, sit in the waiting room for the whole hour so he doesn't have to stand around waiting for you, get a job so you two don't risk jail again, and comfort him,' Katya's face took on a serious tone, and she stared at Alin as if she were dissecting him, 'and don't leave him, ever. Got it?'

'Wouldn't have it any other way,' Alin's frown deepened, 'I just hope he gets better.'

…

Everyone was once more crowded into Katya's little car, Antonio, and Elizabeta in the back (Roderich was at home looking after Franz) with Alin once more in the trunk, much to the young man's horror. As they pulled up in front of the house Eduard had directed them to, Elizabeta got out to open the trunk, grabbing Alin by his shirt collar and roughly pulling him out.

'Hey watch it!' he snapped, holding the suitcase- now containing the right amount of money- to his chest, as if it were a precious gem. Elizabeta just rolled her eyes.

'You going then?' she asked.

'Yeah, sure,' Alin glanced at the big house, 'look, I've been thinking...'

'Was it painful?' Elizabeta arched an eyebrow.

'Now's not the time for jokes,' Alin snapped, 'this is some serious shit, and there's a good chance lives will be lost if it doesn't go well. Negotiations like this are delicate and can easily break down if the right words aren't said. I think… I think this is a matter for the emergency services.'

'What are you saying?' asked Elizabeta in confusion.

'If I'm not out of there in three hours,' explained Alin, 'call the police. Maybe they can save Tsvetan if I fail.'

'You won't fail,' Elizabeta gave a reassuring smile, 'but we'll be keeping track of the time anyway, and after three hours we'll phone them.'

'Thank you,' Alin nodded, 'that's all I ask.'

Elizabeta gave one final nod then got into the car.

'Katya,' Alin leaned in through the front window, 'don't wait here for me, please. It'll look suspicious.'

'Of course,' Katya started the engine and Alin stepped back, watching as they drove off, disappearing around the corner, wishing they would be able to come with him for support. Then again, at least this way they were safe out here.

Sighing, he turned towards the house and walked up to the gate, steeling himself before pressing the buzzer.


	19. Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically from here on out the contents of the chapters get pretty brutal, so be warned

Alin felt numb.

His brain barely registered his conversation with Jensen through the buzzer, or stumbling along the garden path, looking around cautiously with that suitcase still clutched to his chest like a lifeline. What if he was too late? What if he was to answer the door only to find Rose telling him they'd been 'too rough' with his friend. If that happened, it would most likely be the last straw for his temper…

No! Alin shook the thought from his head, trying to focus on the task at hand. Everything will go smoothly, he told himself. Why wouldn't it? He had the money, they had Tsvetan; it was a simple trade.

Then why did he feel this sense of doom?

Hand shaking, he knocked determinedly on the front door, readjusting the suitcase in his other hand, gripping it tightly through his glove.

It was Rose who answered, giving a cold smile as she ushered him inside, green eyes scrutinising his outfit.

'You never told us we had to be in fancy dress,' she commented, smiling smugly, 'you've even coloured your hair. Blond isn't really your thing, I must say.'

'Oy!' growled Alin, taking his hat off, 'I had to wear this crap all week to hide from the cops because  _someone_  thought it would be a good idea to plant a knife in my apartment.'

'It was only meant to scare you,' she replied calmly, 'we never predicted the police would be informed,' she tilted her head slightly, 'we could always make the informer  _pay_ , if you're interested?'

'That won't be necessary,' Alin assured her, somewhat relieved Heracles and his family were out of harm's way. So the police had their good points too…

'If you say so,' Rose shrugged, 'take you coat off then; might as well get started.'

Alin hesitated at that. He'd barely taken off the large, violet coat Katya had given him, all week and didn't particularly want to now. It was thick, and he almost felt it would offer him some protection against whatever weapons Jensen and Kirkland had, if negotiations broke down. However, he knew he was being silly, and did not want to come across as difficult, so simply nodded, placing his hat and coat on the stand, revealing a maroon shirt and pants the same colour; still, not the worse thing he'd worn that week. By Sunday he'd been questioning Toni's sense of fashion, as he pulled on an orange pullover covered in tiny turtles.

'Well, come along then,' Rose began to walk towards the dining from, and Alin followed, hoping he wouldn't have to sit through another tense dinner and glancing around for Natalya. He wanted to know where she was, still clinging to that hope she'd help him. He couldn't see her lurking in the shadows or at the top of the stairs, and guessed she just wasn't there. It didn't matter anyway; she still wouldn't be any help to him, no matter how hard he hoped otherwise.

To his surprise, the dining table was clear and empty; not even a table cloth and candles were set out. Crossing the room swiftly, Rose opened the door to Aleksander's small study and Alin felt both tense and relieved as he followed, finding himself in the same, small but imposing, office surrounded by books.

'Ah,' Aleksander greeted him, giving a small but extremely cold smile as he gestured to the seat in front of his desk. Alin obeyed without question, resting the suitcase on his lap. He didn't trust them enough to part with it just yet. Rose, meanwhile, took a seat in her armchair, which had been moved to the other side of the room, behind him. Alin hated how she wasn't in his line of sight, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but didn't comment on it. It wouldn't make any difference to them, and they'd only mock him, or try to frighten him further. Still, he felt defenceless like this, especially since she was also next to the only door.

'How have you been?' Aleksander continued.

'Fine,' Alin replied stiffly. And again with the small talk…

Aleksander regarded the case, eyes gleaming, 'well, well, is that for us? Did you get our stolen cash?'

'Yes,'

'All of it?'

'Course,' Alin grinned, 'I'm not one to mess about. I said I'd have your money, and I got it.'

'You better not be bullshitting us,' Aleksander warned, 'we will shoot Borisov right in front of you if it's not all there.'

'There'll be no need for that,' Alin assured him, 'so, shall we get this over with?'

'I don't see why not,' came Rose's voice, 'just put the money on the table.'

Alin nodded, sliding the suitcase over the Aleksander, who opened it, counting silently, running his fingers over the green slips, organised into neat rows by Eduard earlier that day, lips moving slightly as he did so. After a while he sighed, letting go of the lid and letting the case snap shut before turning to Alin, eyes narrowing.

'It's not all there,'

'What?' Alin shook his head, letting out a nervous giggle, 'you're joking! It's all there; I counted it myself.'

'And I, too, counted it,' Aleksander glared at him, 'and I'm telling you it's not enough.'

'All ten thousand's there!'

'You think it was ten thousand?' Aleksander shook his head, regarding him with amusement, 'oh, dear boy, you should learn to listen properly.'

'I did!' Alin waved a hand wildly, 'you said the money I stole plus interest was ten thousand.'

'It was ten thousand last Thursday,' Aleksander corrected, 'don't tell me you forgot to add interest for this week.'

'I didn't know that,' he spat, 'why didn't you say?'

'You're a smart boy,' Aleksander shrugged, 'we thought you'd figure it out for yourself.'

'This was deliberate!' Alin cried.

'Now now,' Aleksander chided, 'don't go making such slanderous accusations. Anyway, seven days would probably generate about 20 percent interest, is that right, Rose?'

'I believe so,' Rose replied, 'which would add two thousand to the ransom, bringing the total to twelve-thousand dollars.'

'So where's our extra two-thousand?' Aleksander arched an eyebrow, facing Alin once more.

'I don't have it!'

'That's a shame, still, you tried your best so don't be too harsh on yourself,' Aleksander stood up, pulling a small handgun out of his blazer, 'shall I say goodbye to your friend for you?'

'No!'

Alin couldn't stop himself from reacting. He jumped up, lunging across the table to try to snatch the gun away but before he could get to it, a pair of pale arms snaked around his torso, pulling him back.

'N-no!' he cried again, struggling against Rose's grasp, 'don't hurt him!' a pointy shoe collided with the back of his knee and he stumbled, held up by the woman behind him.

'We gave you a fair chance,' Aleksander began moving towards the door, 'it's your own fault he will die.'

'No, please, you can't do it!' Alin tried once more to break free but after another kick, he fell to the floor, dissolving into a puddle of tears and pleading, Rose grabbing a fistful of hair to keep him in place, 'please, I'm begging you, give me more time!'

'I don't think so,' Aleksander was standing in the doorway now, 'Rose, please see our guest to the door, in case he tries anything.'

'Of course,' Rose tugged sharply at Alin's hair, willing him to move, but Alin was beyond caring. Sobbing loudly, he just sat there, all thoughts of dignity and composure behind him. It couldn't end like this! He'd done what he'd asked, but it still wasn't enough…

'No! Wait,' an idea slowly forming, Alin tried one last time to grab Jensen's attention but the man in question just turned, disappearing into the dining room. Alin growled, hauling himself up and finally breaking free of Rose's grasp.

'Hey, wait-'

'A deal!' Alin darted into the dining room, where Aleksander was opening the door to the hall, 'let's make a deal!' Aleksander looked at him curiously, but before Alin could speak, Rose lunged at him, punching him in the stomach and knocking him to the ground.

'Wait,' Aleksander raised a hand, slowly walking over to Alin until he was standing over him. Kneeling down, he grabbed a chunk of Alin's hair, twisting his head upwards so they were facing each other, 'go on.'

'Are you seriously paying attention to this piece of shit?' snorted Rose, 'he's just trying to buy more time.'

'Maybe,' Aleksander shrugged, 'or maybe his shell of a skull's managed to rattle a logical thought together. What kind of deal do you have in mind?'

Alin trembled as he spoke, 'a life for a life. Take me in Tsvetan's place.'

Rose's eyebrows shot up, 'playing the noble hero, are we? Now this is a side of you I've never seen…'

'Come on,' Alin's eyes darted between them, 'I'm the one who hurt you; I'm the one you want to punish. Why don't we start leaving Tsvet out of this?'

'You'd willingly die to save your 'friend'?' there was a slight sneer to Aleksander's voice, 'I don't believe it.'

'Well, I'm offering my life, okay?' Alin sighed, 'do we have a deal?'

'What do you say, Rose?'

'We're still getting a death,' Rose shrugged, 'if Alin thinks it's not kinder to put Borisov out of his misery, then fine. Kill him.'

'You have yourself a deal,' Aleksander took one of Alin's hands, shaking it. He let go of Alin's hair, and the young man dropped to the floor before turning onto his back, staring weakly as Aleksander slowly raised his gun.

'Wait,' he gasped, 'what do you mean by 'put Borisov out of his misery'? What have you done to him that's more terrible than before?'

'That's not your business anymore,' Aleksander waved a hand, 'he's alive; that's all you need to know, now hold still.'

Alin sighed, praying that this was the right choice. He tried not to focus on the fact that he was dying, only on Tsvetan living. But something told him that Jensen and Kirkland were continuing to be their untrustworthy selves, not that it mattered anymore. He had to have faith. Tsvetan would live, be free and rebuild his life, without Alin there to ruin everything for him.

As Aleksander took aim, finger on the trigger, Alin closed his eyes, waiting for it to end.


	20. Double or nothing

'Wait!'

A gunshot fired and Alin flinched, but there was no pain, no reddened vision, no end.

He must've missed.

Alin ignored Rose's shout, since Aleksander clearly had, and took a deep breath, letting his muscles relax.  _Go on. What were you waiting for, Jensen?_   _You've probably dreamed of this moment for years, you sick bastard. Just get it over with._  But nothing came. It seemed like the man's love of killing with suspense was keeping him from pulling the trigger and Alin refused to say anything, lest it give away his frustration.

He didn't want to die and Aleksander knew that. He didn't want a fuss, time to think about what was happening. He just wanted Tsvetan safe.

_And Aleksander knew that._

Eventually, Alin opened one eye, ever so slightly, and looked up. To his surprise, Rose had grabbed Aleksander's wrist, forcing the gun to point towards the ceiling. Aleksander's expression betrayed the man's shock and confusion as he stared into his partner's fierce eyes. He wasn't the only one who had no clue what was going on.  _What the hell was Rose doing?_ Alin wondered if, by some miracle, she had suddenly become moral and was determined to atone for her past actions by saving him. But one glance at her, manic, wicked, smug grin said otherwise.

She was plotting something.

'Why don't we have a little fun first, hmm?' she purred before adding something in Aleksander's ear, so Alin couldn't hear it. She removed her lips from the side of his face, then curled them into a smile, thrown in Alin's direction.

'Intriguing,' Aleksander murmured, 'alright. What would you say, Radacanu, if we gave you the chance to walk away alive, with Borisov, if you complete a challenge first?'

'I would say you're a lying piece of-'

'Hush!' Alin fell silent. What the hell was he thinking? Now was not the time for insulting the man with the weapon.

'Of course,' continued Aleksander, 'if you fail the challenge. Yours and Tsvetan's deaths will be slow and excruciating. Think of it as double or nothing; you like a gamble, don't you?'

'Actually, I like playing cards,' corrected Alin, 'it's others who force me to gamble.'

'Can't have enjoyment without risking something in return,' Aleksander sighed, 'do we have a deal or not?'

'I think I've gone quite off your so called 'deals', Jensen,' Alin spat, 'but nevertheless, I'm intrigued. What sort of challenge do you have in mind?'

'A test of will and strength,' was all Aleksander told him, 'you will find out soon enough, if you agree to this.'

'I don't know,' Alin sighed, 'this is a trap, isn't it?'

'It's gonna cost you to see my cards.'

'I'm thinking,' Alin rested his head on the ground. At this point, he was dead and Tsvetan was alive. Here he was with the opportunity for them both to survive, to rebuild their lives and be together. However, if he failed whatever impossible task was set, they'd both die, and everything he'd done to save Tsvetan, everything his friends had done, would be for nothing.

But hey, at least they'd be together.

'Fine, deal,' why did he deal like he'd condemned Tsvetan to a terrible fate?

'Great,' Rose clapped her hands together, 'I'll get the stake money- err- I mean the prisoner.'

Oh, that's why.

As Rose dashed into the hallway, Aleksander walked closer to Alin, gun still in his hand.

'Shake on it,' he growled, taking Alin's wrist and shaking it roughly, 'there, no going back now.'

'Can you tell me what my challenge is at least?' Alin hated how his voice sounded, tired and cracking. This was all too much to take.

'All in good time,' Aleksander's lips twitched upwards for a split second, 'now get up and stop sprawling around on the floor like some animal.'

Alin glared furiously, but pulled himself up off the burgundy carpet.

'Let's hope you're still as vicious as you used to be,' Aleksander commented, slowly making his way towards the door, 'get out,' he barked, 'stay in front and don't try anything.'

Alin nodded, tentatively walking over to Jensen, who roughly pushed him into the hall, digging the butt of the gun into the small of his back and grabbing a fistful of hair.

Soon enough, Rose reappeared, dragging a figure behind her with a rope tied around his wrists, and stopped before them. Alin couldn't keep the cry of shock from escaping his lips.

If Tsvetan had been bad last time they'd met, then Alin couldn't find a word to describe him now. Still blindfolded, he shook constantly, flinching at the slightest sound. Several of his injuries looked inflamed now, along with new, deeper marks across his face, chest and arms, and Alin just wanted to lift him up and run to the nearest hospital. He was thin, emaciated even, and could barely stand whilst his ruined clothes did nothing to protect him from bitter cold and the brutality of his captors.

Rose sneered at his reaction, and roughly removed his blindfold. Tsvetan flinched, trembling at her touch and shying away, but didn't struggle, didn't resist.

Dead eyes, that had probably not seen light in weeks, blinked slowly, fearfully around the hall, fixing on Alin and slowly focusing.

'You,' he hissed, voice raspy.

'Tsvet,' Alin wanted to pull his friend into a hug, but couldn't. Not with that deadly thing behind him, and the gun too.

Tsvetan shook his head, taking a step backwards and tugging against his ropes, 'no! You lied! You said you'd save me and-'

'Quiet!' Rose whacked the back of Tsvetan's head and he fell to the ground, hugging his knees and trembling.

'I'm sorry,' he mumbled, 'please, don't hurt me.'

'Of course not,' Rose stroked his hair gently, 'why would I do that?'

'Right, si-silly me,' Tsvetan giggled nervously, still shaking.

'What have you done to him you bastards?' Alin tried to rush forward, but Aleksander pulled him backwards by his hair, 'no, you've hurt him!'

'No need to act so surprised,' Aleksander sighed, 'and didn't Rose say to put him out of his misery? Not our fault you never listen.'

'Al, you wouldn't, would you?' Tsvetan glanced up uneasily.

'Never,' Alin smiled at his friend warmly, trying to give him some form of reassurance and hope, 'look, I just have to do one more thing and then we'll be out of here. Hell, we could be going home within the hour! What do you say?'

'I'd like that,' Tsvetan gave a small smile, which quickly faded, 'I'm… I'm sorry about what I said…'

'I deserved it,' Alin replied simply.

'True, now cut the crap; do you want him back or not? We have things to do!' Rose kicked Tsvetan harshly, 'get up, up!' Tsvetan nodded and shakily hauled himself up as fast as his tied hands would allow him to.

'Much better,' Rose turned back to Alin, 'so now we've seen what's at stake, are you ready to play for your lives?'

'I am,' Alin avoided Tsvetan's gaze.

'Good,' Rose tugged at the rope in her hands, marching over to a nearby door and throwing it open to reveal wooden steps descending into darkness, probably the basement. She grabbed Tsvetan's collar and threw him in, ignoring the young man's startled yelp and the sickening sounds that followed each time a part of Tsvetan's body was smacked against the wooden planks. Eventually, the noises stopped as Tsvetan landed on cold, stone floor, gave a small whimper and fell silent.

'Wait, stop! What are you doing?' Alin tried to dart after him, but Rose produced a lighter from her pocket, holding the naked flame over the stairs.

'Come any closer and I'll drop it after him.'

Alin stopped, frozen in his spot and unable to look away from the fire. Yes, it was small, artificial, controlled, but he knew what it could become. Who it could destroy. It would consume everything in the room, choking and burning and Alin tried not to picture Tsvetan lying on the floor, unable to move with his injuries, slowly suffocating as flames licked at his clothes. He didn't want to imagine his friend calling out for help, only to receive a lungful of smoke in reply. Who would find the body? Jensen and Kirkland would be out of there in a heartbeat, after killing Alin, of course, and there was no one left to look for them. They would die before anyone would find them. What about the others? He didn't want to picture his friends coming to his rescue in three hours to find an inferno and be unable to stop it. Would the fire fighters arrive, bringing out two bodies wrapped in sheets? All because of that uncontrollable, deadly fire.

'Oh don't worry,' Rose purred, coming closer, stilling holding that damned lighter, 'if it comes to it, you'll be down there too when the fire starts, if you fail the challenge. So you can both die together! Isn't that nice of us?'

Alin nodded stiffly, eyes still on the flame. He didn't want it near him; he wanted to run, to make her put it out, but it would be no use. It was too close though. He could almost feel its heat, creeping towards him and longing to lick at his face, arms, body, and his mind was starting to drag himself back to when he was a child, when he made that stupid mistake…

'Now,' Rose clicked the lighter shut, and Alin sighed in relief, 'your challenge.'

'Right, what would that be?' Alin braced himself for whatever trail they'd prepared for him. It was a spontaneous decision, so they wouldn't have had time to come of with something too horrifying, right?

Unless they'd planned this all along. Alin realised in horror that they had probably known he'd try to swap his life for Tsvetan's, that he'd never be able to resist one last chance of life.

They were never getting out of here.

'You will be pitted against three opponents, myself, Rose and Natalya, in that order, in hand-to-hand combat. The only rule: no killing. If you bring us all to the ground and we don't get up in five seconds, you can collect your friend, leave and we'll say nothing more of this. But if one- just one- of us wins, you're both history. Understood?'

'Perfectly.


	21. Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I looked at him, he looked at me,
> 
> All I could do was hate him.'

There was nearly complete silence in the huge, almost empty ballroom Alin found himself in. Moonlight shifted in through the large windows that took up one wall, illuminating the tiled dance floor. Alin wondered what sort of memories this room had. If it could speak, would it talk of? Grand parties where elaborately-dressed couples glided across the floor? Young children learning how to waltz or fence? Or more recent ones, where people where tortured and murdered in cold blood? Where Tsvetan was tortured?

Alin sighed to himself.

This was no ballroom.

It was an arena.

And the dance floor was his battle ground.

He turned to Rose, who was pacing the width of the room, between him and the door. Her heels clicked against the floor as she prowled, her dress gone and replaced by a simple long-sleeved t-shirt and black trousers. Much more practical for fighting.

'Well?' he asked, 'are you and your boyfriend going to fight me then?' Aleksander had been gone for nearly ten minutes now. What the hell were they plotting this time?

'Don't think you can start giving orders,' snapped Rose.

_Oh. She didn't know where he was either._

It was then that Aleksander decided to make his presence known. He barged in, dragging Natalya by her arm. Shooting the girl a glare, he ordered her to sit on one of the chairs at the edge of the room, and she obeyed. Slowly she walked across the room, navy blue dress swishing and heels tapping against the floor, her shoulders hunched.

Natalya glared at Aleksander from her seat, breathing heavily and close to tears. The pure hatred and rage in her expression scared Alin; how the hell was he supposed to fight her? He didn't even want to hurt her! Then again, judging by what he knew of her, she'd more likely be the one inflicting pain.

 _No need to think about that yet_ , Alin reminded himself, he still needed to defeat the other two first.

'What happened?' demanded Rose, marching over to Aleksander, who was occupying himself with locking the door. Did he think Natalya would try to escape?

'Nothing. Let's just say she's been given a chance to redeem herself.'

Natalya's nostril's flared at that and she refused to look up from the floor. Alin could see she was trying to stop herself from crying. What had she done, or tried to do?

'Very well,' Rose took a seat on the window sill, one leg dangling over the side. Her eyes gleamed over the top of her glasses.

Aleksander began pacing around Alin, smirking slightly. Alin, meanwhile, refused to let the man out of his sight.

'So it comes down to this, fighting for your lives,' the man began, 'shame you two had that fight in the first place.'

'You can't change the past,' Alin shrugged, then paused, 'hang on, how did you know about me and Tsvet's fight?'

'Oh Alin,' Aleksander chuckled, 'we've known everything from the very start. We knew you two frequented a certain nightclub. We knew you'd get completely shitfaced and wander off to either piss or fight someone, leaving Borisov alone at the bar, feeling abandoned and discontented. We knew he wouldn't mind if a young stranger flirted with him and paid him attention, and plant ideas in his head about the quality of his company.'

Aleksander was close now, breathing his sickening monologue down Alin's neck. Alin himself shuddered, turning his head to face the other. He knew where this was going and he fucking hated it.

'It was easy for me to slip an address into his hand, in case he ever got tired of his old life. I promised him a place to stay if you two ever fell out, warned it might be sooner than he thought. A few brushes of the skin- a certain word here and there- and I was making him feel loved and wanted. He still preferred you- I could tell- but it was only a matter of time before you did something stupid.'

Aleksander pulled away, standing in front of Alin and laughing, 'all we had to do was wait for our little Bulgarian to come wandering along a few days later, alone, emotional and tired, then pull up next to him. Didn't suspect a thing! Subduing him was no fun though. He barely screamed!'

Alin let out a snarl, lunging at Aleksander. How dare he! How dare the both of them! No one treated Tsvetan like that and got away!

Forget the rules; he was going to tear Jensen's head off!

He grabbed Aleksander's shirt, head-butting and kicking him, lashing out blindly. Blood spurted from Aleksander's nose and cuts appeared on his face. Alin lost all sense of who he was, only focusing on inflicting as much pain as possible to the bastard that hurt his friend, his love. He ripped at clothes and clawed at the man's face. Everything became a blur of red and screaming; whose screaming it was, he couldn't tell.

He had no idea when teeth became involved, but stopped when he found himself trying to tear a chunk of Aleksander's cheek off his face with his canines. He had the man on the floor now, using his knees to old down the other's arms whilst punching with both hands and biting furiously.

Jumping up, Alin retreated to the other side of the dance floor and stared in horror. Had he really done that? Attacked like a wild animal? He was a monster, no different to Jensen and Kirkland.

How could he ever say he was better than them?

From across the room, Rose began to count.

'One… two…'

Aleksander didn't move. He was sprawled on his back, blood slowly trickling down his face and arms.

'Three… four…'

Had Alin killed him? He saw the man's hand twitch, apparently not.

'Five!'

Rose got up and pulled Aleksander to his feet. The man blinked slowly, wiping his mouth and throwing a glare in Natalya's direction. Alin's eyes focused on her long enough to see the girl's smirk quickly fall before his full attention was on Jensen and Kirkland once more.

'You bit me,' he hissed, fingertips brushing against his cheek. He swayed dangerously, Rose steadying him, 'are you some sort of animal?'

'No,' Alin shook visibly now. What if they disqualified him for drawing blood? No, that was expected in a fight! He'd won fair and square!

Fortunately, Aleksander just smiled.

'Well, that was… something,' he began, 'good to see you haven't lost your touch. Still, will it be enough to beat Rose?'

'I doubt it,' the woman commented.

Alin cleaned drying blood and skin from under his nails, evenly sizing up Rose. She was tricky to calculate, and always had something up her sleeve. Judging by her sleeves, there might literally be a weapon up there. His eyes flicked down to find she'd replaced her heels with flat shoes. Sensible.

'Well? Ladies first,' he relaxed his muscles, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

'Of course,' Rose darted forward, catching him in the stomach before he had time to react and knocking him backwards. He hit the floor hard, winded, and through watery eyes, only just managed to glimpse Rose's fist flying towards him.

The first punch was hard, and painful, but he caught hold of her wrists before any more could follow, ignoring the blood spurting from his nose. He threw her onto the floor next to him, and hastily scrambled up whilst she did the same. There was a pause, and Alin wiped him nose before it started up again.

The pair exchanged blows, circling each other, ducking and lashing out. Alin dodged her fists the best he could, and tried to aim for her face, stomach and other sensitive areas. If he could just get knock her glasses off he might have an advantage, but she kept her face guarded the best she could. Still, he was not above dirty tactics, and now he knew what sort of damage his teeth could do…

Rose caught him in the jaw, and he stumbled backwards a few steps, spinning slightly. She took the opportunity to leap onto his back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, cutting off his air. Alin waved his arms, wildly reaching for her trying to throw her off but she wouldn't budge. The hold she had on his neck scared him; one twist and he could be dead.

She wouldn't do that, would she?

The rules said 'no killing'!

Oh what did they care for silly rules?

He had to get her off him, and Alin had no idea how. Her grip was growing tighter, and he was struggling to breathe, to see straight. His vision began to swim but he already had an idea.

Throwing himself to the floor, he landed on his back, or, more importantly, Rose.

He felt her grip loosen and he pulled himself free, scrambling up and quickly slamming his foot down on her stomach, just to make sure she stayed down. For added measure, he kicked her again, and again. Rose gave a small groan, but stayed down.

Aleksander counted to five, more slowly than necessary, before wandering over and helping her up, shooting a look of contempt in Alin's direction.

'Well done,' he spat out, 'but your final opponent won't be so easy.'

Alin smirked at that, breathing heavily. He was full of adrenaline and could take anyone at this point. He wasn't above fighting teenage girls and, hey, Natalya might go easy on him. What damage could she do in her dress and heels anyway? And more importantly, why would she have any reason for him to lose?

Nope, they could all walk away now.

Of course, with Jensen and Kirkland, things were never that simple.

'Just so you're both aware of the rules,' Aleksander began whilst Natalya got up, skulking onto the dance floor and glowering at the other three, 'if you lose, Alin, we will kill both you and Borisov, as you know. However, if you lose, Natalya, we will kill your older brother, Ivan.'


	22. Last chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'My odds are stacked,
> 
> I've never been a gambling man,
> 
> I've never had the winning hand,
> 
> But for you, I'd lose it all.'

Alin barely had time to process what he'd been told before he was tackled by a furious, screaming Natalya.

She knocked him to the floor and he only just managed to roll away before her foot slammed down on the collection of tiles where his stomach had been.

Now on his hands and knees, he tried to scramble to his feet, but she pulled him back by his shirt, grabbing a handful of hair and smashing his face against the floor. Alin cried out, but she ignored him, and once more his head was slammed into the ground. He caught the taste of wood and blood and waited for another hit.

But it never came.

He shook his head and pulled himself to his feet, stumbling and turning around to find Natalya a few metres from him, scowling and clearly believing she'd already defeated him. Her eyes were wide with fear and she shook with desperation; she was willing to tear him apart to save her brother. She could just well do it too. Alin had seen Ivan breaking up- and sometimes starting- fights in his club, and even the gentle Katya had a bit of a temper, so who's to say the youngest sibling was any different? In fact, from what he'd heard, she was the worst of the three.

Her hair was in a high bun for the fight, but she still wore her dress and high heels, yet they didn't slow her down at all. In fact, she could probably do some serious damage with those shoes.

But he had a chance too dammit!

Yes, he was tired. And yes, he honestly didn't want to hurt her. But he had to win! Morals and guilt had no place here. And he wasn't useless; he could bite, and punch, and knock her into the ground! And he'd do it without a hint of regret!

Well, he wanted to, but Alin wasn't made of stone.

'I'm so sorry,' he whispered. Sure, he and Ivan didn't exactly get along, but he'd never wish death on the man. However, Ivan needed to die if he and Tsvetan were to live.

'Likewise,' Natalya bowed her head slightly, 'it'll be a shame to let Katya's friends die.'

They charged at the same time. No point stalling with pointless jabber. This time round, he caught her with a punch to the shoulder, quickly elbowing her in the stomach. Kick. Scratch. Hiss. Pinch. Claw. Squeeze. Slap. They quickly spiralled into a blur of punches and kicks, Natalya's bun coming loose and the pair trying to use each other's long hair to their advantage. He grabbed a sandy lock and pulled her downward whilst she hooked a foot around his ankle. They fell to the ground and continued their brawl.

'I'll destroy you! I'll destroy you all!' Natalya screamed in his face, spraying him with spit. She was on top now, straddling him and strangling him with both hands. He grabbed her wrists, arms trembling as he used all his strength to pull them away before placing one in his mouth and biting down. Hard.

She screeched and pulled her hands away, slashing at his face with her long nails. Hissing, he shoved her off him and rolled on top of her, elbowing her in the jaw whilst her knee shot up, hitting him in the groin.

'Hey that's not fair!' he cried, gasping in pain.

'Nothing's fair here!' she shouted back.

'Is that so?' he punched her in the chest and she let out a howl, head-butting him.

He stumbled backwards, dazed and bleeding- again- but he quickly recovered, pouncing on her and giving his all. He punched until his hands were raw and aching. Why hadn't he ever learned to use his fists properly? Pain shot through his wrists and fingers, but that didn't stop him.

Natalya threw her arms over her face to shield it, so he sank his teeth repeatedly into the bare skin. He could feel his mind slipping again. He was seeing red. There was no more Alin, just an enraged creature who was willing to sink low to get what he wanted.

A pained wail brought him back to his senses and he looked down in horror.

He'd sunk too low.

Natalya was trembling, eyes red and puffy with tears, for herself and her brother. Her face and arms were bleeding and bruised- vivid against ghostly, pale skin- and her dress torn. Her toned legs peeked through jagged, blue tatters of material whilst she wrapped her arms around herself for comfort. She was no longer a vicious enemy to be defeated, but a young girl, just trying to save her family. Barely nineteen, and subjected to ordeals that would leave someone twice her age an emotional and mental ruin…

Shaking with disgust, he slowly stood up and backed away from her, lest any more harm came to the kid. She sat up slowly, hair tumbling over her face, and stared at him in horror, trembling.

'I'm so sorry,' he repeated, this time meaning it, 'I didn't want to do this.' How could he finish this fight? Why did Natalya have to become another victim of his stupid mistakes? He wanted to save Tsvetan and get them both out of here, but could he do it at the expense of her and her brother? He knew Katya would never speak to him again. Maybe she and Eduard would pay Tino to kill him and Tsvet in revenge, making all this for nothing. Then where would the bloodshed end?

'What are you waiting for?' called Rose, 'one more blow and you've won!'

'I can't do it.' He shook his head. He wanted to save Tsvetan so, so much, but he couldn't do it at the price of someone else. He held out his hand to Natalya, giving a reassuring smile. Maybe they could team up against the bastards who were making them do this. Two against two! It was fair! They could do it!

He tried to silently tell her his plan.  _Please. Together! We can all walk away! Help me, I beg of you!_

'You idiot,' muttered Natalya, grabbing his hand and pulling him down.

_**No!** _

He hit the floor, hard, and cried out.

No! No! No! Nononononono! It was a trick! How could he have been so stupid?!

Natalya punched him repeatedly, knees on his hands to stop him from retaliating. Each blow was agonizing, made worse by the knowledge that this was caused by his own gullibility.

He'd killed Tsvetan.

Unless a miracle happened, he'd just blown his last chance.

He glared up at her through bruised, half-closed eyes, trying to blink the blood out of them, but the brat just continued her assault. Where did she even learn to fight like that? He couldn't move his arms or legs, and he couldn't lift his head to bite, even though her fists were moving too fast to snap at anyway. She elbowed him in the neck, slammed his head into the floor and scratched at his eyes.

She got up and Alin sighed in relief, thankful that was over. But she slammed her foot into his stomach instead. He screamed in pain as the blunt stiletto smashed repeatedly into his torso, winding and bruising him.

 _Make it stop!_  He cried in his head,  _someone save me! Tsvet! Katya! Toni!_  Even Lizzie would be a welcome sight right now. Had three hours passed yet? Were the others on their way to save him yet?

No, he was alone.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't see. Everything hurt and he wanted it to stop! Why wouldn't Natalya show him mercy?!

There would be a slight pause, he'd try to move and she'd kick him again. Just to make sure. For nearly five minutes it continued, and Alin thought he would die with each blow. At least then he wouldn't have to face Tsvetan again…

Then it stopped. Footsteps grew fainter as Natalya backed away and Aleksander began counting.

'One…'

Now was his chance! If he could just get up and continue the fight, somehow…

'Two…'

Get up you fool! There are people counting on you! His arms shook but he couldn't lift them. His legs felt like jelly and his head pounded, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the energy to budge.

'Three…'

Why couldn't he move? Pain shot through his body and he struggled to take breaths, his chest ragged as it rose and fell, but surely it couldn't be that bad! Surely it couldn't be over so soon…

'Four…'

No! It couldn't end like this! They were supposed to get out together! He was supposed to help Tsvet…

'Five.'

Alin didn't hear Rose's manic laughter, or Natalya politely asking to be excused, or Aleksander's blessing and insistence she spent the night in the guest room. He didn't hear the birds in the garden, or Eduard muttering reassurances to Katya in her car, or the lonely, pained, whimpers of the man in the basement.

The only things he heard were two simple words shouted in his mind over and over again.

_I failed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess it's gotten to that part in this fic where it's pretty much violence, death and cliff-hangers. Fun times!
> 
> The lyrics at the top are from 'Gambling man' by the Overtones, which is also one of the songs that inspired this story (though that's a pretty long list of songs).
> 
> Very sorry, and if you hate me then I understand. If you don't, well, there's plenty more opportunities for that to happen. 
> 
> I wanna start leaving clues as to what the next story will be about but, you know, spoilers and all that, maybe in the last chapter…


	23. Burn the evidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And I know that I'm damned if I never get out  
> And maybe I'm damned if I do  
> But with every other beat I got left in my heart  
> You know I'd rather be damned with you."

At first, Alin was only vaguely aware that he was being dragged away. All that filled his head was the terrible, crushing fact that all he had worked for, all his friends had worked for, had been for absolutely nothing. He could scarcely accept that he and Tsvetan were to die. This all had to be a dream. Maybe this was just a cruel nightmare! Everything felt numb as his mind tried to process just what was happening but it just didn't seem to click.

Then it hit him like a wave.

This was the end. This was where he would have to tell Tsvetan he'd failed and they would not be making it out of here.

'No!' Alin tried to struggle out of Jensen and Kirkland's grasp, but they held firm, dragging him across the ballroom towards the hall.

'Please, no, you can't do this!' He tried to crawl away, grabbing onto any furniture he could reach but the other two had a strong grip on his ankles and he couldn't hold on for long.

'We had a deal, Radacanu,' Aleksander growled, 'you lost so you have to pay the price.'

'Fine, then how about double or nothing?' Alin couldn't stop himself from shaking. There was no way it could end like this. He couldn't let them drag him down there. To face Tsvetan. To die in flames.

One more chance. He was desperate.

'No, we're tired of your games now. You're no fun anymore.' Rose yanked his ankle, hard, 'you're old news and need to be swept away from this world!'

'Please just give me another chance,' the young man sobbed, watching as he was dragged into the hall and could do nothing to stop it. He was still too weak from his fight with Natalya and couldn't find the strength to resist them any more. This whole thing was his fault and now he'd blown his last chance to save them both.

He was a disgrace.

'No more chances! You and your friend are dying here and now, and there's nothing you can do about it!'

'I thought you liked deals and playing with people,' Alin tried, attempting to grip onto the carpet. Words were all he had left, but he'd be damned if he didn't give life one last shot.

'Yes but we  _love_  seeing you suffer, reduced to crying and pleading,' Aleksander gave a small smirk, stepping over the remains of Natalya's smashed mobile phone, which lay abandoned on the dusty carpet. Alin paid it no attention.

'Then at least give me a chance to save Tsvetan!'

'Another chance?'

'Yes, please I'm begging you! You can do what you want with me but let him live!'

The twisted pair paused for a moment, exchanging amused glances before turning back to their victim and answering at once.

'No deal!'

'Why not?' cried Alin, 'just let him live dammit!'

'No!' Rose spat through gritted teeth as she tried to restrain the man whilst opening the cellar door, 'you're not getting a happy ending and that's final!'

She kicked Alin in the head as a final insult and, along with Aleksander, lifted him up and threw him down the stairs. Alin felt his whole body slam into the rough, wooden steps, pain shooting through him as he plummeted to the bottom. He was attacked from all sides, spinning so fast he felt sick as the air was knocked out of him and he struggled to breathe in again. It seemed endless. He was going to keep tumbling until he suffocated and died, or was smashed to pieces. On and on. He needed to breathe. He couldn't find air. His lungs were screaming now, as if they were begging for mercy from the relentless pounding.

Then all of a sudden, he smacked into the cold, stone floor, lying still whilst he tried to fill his lungs with air. Every breath was agony for him and his vision swam with the pain. He couldn't find the strength to move or look up as Aleksander bellowed down to him.

'I'm sure you'll have just enough time to tell your friend how much of a pathetic disgrace you are before the smoke takes you!'

'No,' Alin whispered, slowly using the little energy he had left to roll onto his back. He didn't try to look for Tsvetan yet. He was too ashamed. Maybe he still had a chance to convince his soon-to-be murderers to let them have another try at life. Whatever it took, he wasn't going to give up just yet.

'You're not being fair!' he cried, voice hoarse. He didn't know what else to say. All other arguments had failed and when he tried to think of a new way to persuade them, his mind went completely blank.

'We've never been fair! Nothing is ever fair! Now shut up and die!' Aleksander pulled out a lighter and a small packet of tissues. Rose took a whole wad out, balled it up and held it steady whilst Aleksander lit it. Alin felt his whole body tense. Not fire. Anything but fire!

If he had to die, could he not at least die another way?

Rose tossed the burning tissue into the cellar and it landed behind him in a pile of cardboard boxes.

'It was nice knowing you!' she called before slamming the door closed.

Now the only light in the room was the dim glow of the flames behind him, small for now, but they'd only get bigger and fiercer before eventually consuming them both. There were plenty of old belongings of Aleks and Rose's filling the room that could catch fire easily, though the smoke alone would be enough to kill them anyway.

'Al?'

Alin turned his head to the side and through the darkness he was just able to make out Tsvetan, crouched behind an old crate and trembling. He was lying on his side, hands still tied together in front of him, beaten and emaciated and frightened, but still happy to see his friend. Alin tried not to think of how the man had been stuck in the dark for hours now, the one thing he hated the most, but it was all that was going through his mind. And when he finally sees even the briefest ray of light, it only brings with it news of Alin's failure, and their subsequent execution. Alin found he couldn't look his friend in the eye.

'Tsvet… I'm so sorry! I tried and they-'

'It's fine,' Tsvetan threw him a warm smile.

'No it's not! It's my fault we're both going to die!'

'You tried your best,' Tsvetan sighed, 'there's nothing anyone can do anymore.'

'But-'

'Al, don't waste time with apologies and regret,' Tsvetan coughed as smoke started to fill the room, ever so slowly, 'I checked those boxes behind you whilst I was down here; they're full of old bits of paper, from what I could feel. Gonna catch fire pretty quickly.'

Alin pulled himself up onto his elbows, wincing at the pain in his stomach as he twisted his body to see. Tsvetan was right; the dry boxes were already partially covered in orange flame and would soon be engulfed completely. Alin shrank back, unable to take his eyes off the spitting, interweaving fire. It was going to come for him. He was trapped with this damned room and couldn't do anything about the soon-to-be inferno. Even if he could find the strength to stand and try to put it out, it was too big for that now.

And he wouldn't dare try.

No way would he have the courage get any closer to that… evil, hissing mess. But it would get closer to him. It would creep towards him and Tsvetan, suffocating them with its smoky claws and whilst the flames wrapped around them, burning their bodies until nothing remained. There would be no evidence of their murder.

'Alin! Come back to me!' Tsvetan called. Alin snapped his head to face his friend; Tsvetan was staring at him with an expression of utter desperation. 'Can you crawl over here? You need to get away from there; you're too close! The flames will get you in no time where you are! Please, hide here with me!'

'I'll try,' Alin refused to dart his eyes anywhere else; as long as he was focused on the other man, he felt somewhat calmer, and less likely to break down. He felt like he was in control of his actions and fears, even if looking at Tsvetan made him lose control of his emotions at the same time. Tsvetan made him feel safe and secure, like he was finally at home when he looked into the other's eyes and Alin knew he would do anything for him.

Except that was impossible now. He'd gotten Tsvetan kidnapped because of his own past mistakes, and blown all chances to get him back. It was Alin's fault they were down here dying but Tsvetan still wanted to aid him. Here he was, still trying to help Alin through his fears despite what the other had put him through. He'd spent the past few weeks living his own nightmare, but it had not been enough to wipe out the kindness in his heart, and Alin felt that warm affection he had for the man wash through him like a wave, drowning his fears and wounds.

Tsvetan kept him sane, but at the same time he drove Alin mad with his perfect voice, perfect smile, eyes, and, well, everything really. Even now, from his matted, greasy hair to his torn shoes, Tsvetan Borisov was absolutely beautiful, both inside and out.

Alin rolled onto his stomach again, trying to ignore the pain in his ribs. It didn't matter; he'd soon be getting worse injuries. He pulled himself along with his arms, crawling towards his friend painfully slowly. The floor was cold, and littered with dust and grime. Alin couldn't help but cough as he accidentally inhaled the stuff, though it could've been from the smoke too.

It was starting to get boiling in here fast. The air felt hot and thick, like a blanket had been pulled over his face and each breath was becoming thinner; there wasn't enough air in the room for them both to last very long.

Alin inched past an old broken mirror, whose shards were scattered across the floor around it. He navigated his way through the broken glass, not caring too much if it cut into his arms, legs or torso. The little wounds didn't matter now he was about to die.

Eventually, he flopped down next to Tsvetan, clinging onto the man's shirt and sobbing into it. There he was. After weeks of separation and challenge after challenge, he and Tsvetan were back together. He felt the steady rise and fall of the other's chest, soft and warm, and he could scarcely believe this was real. The pair curled up together, hiding behind the crate that would provide little protection against the inferno.

'I'm so… so sorry,' he wailed over the roar of the flames.

'Shh, it's okay,' Tsvetan pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping his bound arms around the other's neck, trembling with exhaustion, fear and affection for his friend. 'It doesn't matter now. I forgive you pal; I'm sure you tried your best!'

'You're not… angry?'

'I am. But not at you. At them. They're the reason we're here, not you!' His lips were pulled into a snarl as he buried his face in Alin's hair. 'They, Jensen and Kirkland, they kept me in the dark! For weeks I couldn't see and it was terrifying and I begged them to remove my blindfold but they just laughed and…' Alin heard him let out a sob, 'I don't want to face the darkness any more.'

'Hey, you won't have to,' Alin stroked his friend's back comfortingly, 'I'm here for you and I promise you won't die alone! We'll be going out together!'

'Thanks,' Tsvetan removed his arms, shuffling away from Alin slightly, 'could you do one thing for me before we die? Untie me. I need to die with some shred of freedom.'

'Of course,' Alin lifted his trembling arms and pulled at the knots binding Tsvetan's wrists together. His fingers protested, but he ignored their raw, bloody ache, pushing them harder in response. He fought to see through his watery eyes and the smoke around them, but it was no use.

'I can't do it…' he held onto Tsvetan's hands, shaking with shame, 'I'm sorry.'

Tsvetan didn't seem to have the energy to hide his disappointment; 'it's fine… it was just a little thing anyway.'

'Wait, the broken glass! By the mirror!' Alin broke into a grin, 'we'll free you yet!'

'You'd go… back there, for me?' Tsvetan looked at Alin in confusion, 'into the fire?'

'I have to try,' Alin rolled away from him, burying his nose and mouth in his shirt and he began crawling back around the crate. Every move was agony and every instinct told him to turn around or the flames would get him. He'd get trapped, his mind told him. He'd freeze in the inferno out of pure terror and not have the state of mind to escape.

But he had to try.

If Tsvetan wanted his hands free then Alin would be damned if he didn't try to free them, since everything else he'd done had taken Tsvetan's freedom, and life, away.

He kept his head down, trying not to look at the orange blaze, though it was everywhere now, and made his way towards the mirror. Waves of heat assaulted his bare face and he couldn't help but let out a sob. His vision was a waterfall of orange and black and he kept his head down, staring determinedly at the floor. Maybe if he didn't look at it, it wouldn't exist to him.

He felt his hand brush against something cold and his fingers clasped around a sliver of jagged glass. Victory.

He dragged himself back to their hiding place and grabbed Tsvetan's wrists, attacking the rope around them furiously. He was exhausted now, with sweat dripping down his face and covering his hands. The shard slipped several times, slicing at his skin as well as the rope, but eventually they fell away and Tsvetan pulled him into his embrace.

'Thanks,' he muttered. He held Alin close, as if his body could protect the other from the heat and burning to come. Alin dropped the glass, wrapping his arms around Tsvetan and holding onto him like a lifeline.

'Guess there's nothing left to do but die,' Alin gave a half-hearted giggle before his smile fell. Now that there was nothing to distract them, no small goal to achieve, the only thing that remained was burning to death. It was coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It was going to consume them both, like it did when he was a child.

But far worse.

Now he didn't have his parents to drag him away and phone an ambulance and tell him it was going to be alright and that he was a brave boy. There was just him, and Tsvetan, whom he had loved and killed at the same time.

'I can't do it!' he cried, clutching Tsvetan's shirt and burying his face in his friend's neck.

'What do you mean?'

Alin felt hot air press against the back of his neck and shivered. He wanted out. He wanted to get up and escape this evil house and out into the fresh air, but neither of them were capable of standing any more, let alone running.

'I don't want to die in fire. It's already taken so much and brought me down so low that I can't let it kill me too!'

Tsvetan frowned, stroking Alin's hair in an attempt to calm him, 'you have no choice though. I'm sorry, but this is the end.'

'I can't do it…' Alin let out a series of sobs, 'not like this…' His elbow brushed against something sharp and he glanced down.

The shard.

'Here! Use this!' he grabbed the glass and held it up to Tsvetan's face.

'Al! You can't be-'

'Please,' Alin begged, 'I don't want to die, and I'm sure you don't either, but if I have to depart from this world then please just make it quick!'

'You can't ask me to kill you!'

'It'll be easy,' Alin rolled onto his back, 'just think of every time I wronged you and aim for the throat.' Alin felt like the smallest person in the world. He couldn't even keep his promise to Tsvetan about sticking together until the end, but the fire was close now and every breath was a struggle. He couldn't live through being burnt again. Even the thought was enough to bring fresh tears and he lay there sobbing, looking at his friend pleadingly.

'Please… don't let me live to see my body burn.'

'You're certain about this?'

'Yes.'

Tsvetan gulped, slowly and shakily pulling himself onto his knees. He sat like that for a few seconds, swaying and looking down at Alin pleadingly, before lifting the shard and holding it a metre or so above the young man's neck.

Once more, Alin found himself closing his eyes and waiting for death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this entire chapter. Not only is it kind of horrific, but I couldn't really seem to get the words to flow properly for ages and it felt a bit stiff. Then today I found myself unable to sleep (woke up late) and decided to pull an all-nighter finishing this. So it was probably shit. And such an important chapter too…
> 
> Anyway, please say what you think!
> 
> The lyrics at the start are from bat outta hell by meatloaf, which is one of my all time favourite songs.


	24. Third degree

"I can't do it."

"Sure you can!" Alin knew it was completely unfair, but he was quickly losing his patience with Tsvetan. He'd assumed the other would be secretly overjoyed at the chance to get his revenge on the man that ruined his life, but still Tsvetan hesitated. Why? Sure, he'd claimed he wasn't angry at Alin anymore, but surely there must be  _some_  resentment buried in him that would drive him to kill the man. Unless it was the resentment that kept him from doing it…

That was it. Tsvetan was going to sit and watch Alin burn, and laugh all the while.

"Alin Radacanu, will you just listen to me!? There is not one cell in my body that is willing to do this! I cannot kill you and never will be able to."

"Your pain kills me," Alin muttered, slowly opening his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Tsvetan was still staring down at him, face twisted into an expression of confusion, like he'd thought Alin had gone insane. The light of the fire danced off his skin, throwing it into an image of contrast, half illuminated, half in shadow. His dark hair was flecked with red and orange and his injuries looked all the more horrific in the half-light. Bloodied, bony arms poked out of his t-shirt, the scars and welts dotted across them turned into lumps of bloodied scabs around his wrists, standing out like a pair of gruesome poppy wreaths. His hands shook as his fingers clasped the damned shard. Light reflected off that thing like the gleam of a knife, cutting into Alin's eyes and blinding him.

Tsvetan seemed to notice, because he slowly lowered his arms. Yet Alin still couldn't find the strength to look directly at him.

"Your pain, both now and over these weeks, kills me inside. I can never make up for what I've done and I don't deserve a quick death, but I need one. Fire terrifies me to the core and I can't go this way." If he had to die a slow death, he would break. No more Alin; he'd be completely lost before his heart finally stopped beating.

"You're asking me to kill my best friend!" Tsvetan almost screamed, "after all I've been through, you're going to add  _this_  to my suffering?!" His eyes widened and he doubled over, bursting into a fit of coughs. He dropped the glass and fell onto his knees and elbows, hacking until tears streamed from his eyes and it appeared he couldn't breathe. His mouth opened and closed like a fish's as he struggled to get a decent mouthful of air. Tsvetan's chest rose and fell in quick succession as he fell onto his side, clearly beginning to panic as his body realised he wouldn't have enough air to support him for much longer.

"Hey, shh, it's fine," Alin rubbed his friend's back slowly. He tried to quell his own panic, if only to calm Tsvetan and keep him sane during their last few… what? Minutes even! "Just breathe. Slowly now. In… and out…"

Tsvetan's breathing slowed to a regular pace and he just laid there, eyes unfocused, snaking an arm over Alin's torso. His lips were slightly parted, taking long, almost empty breaths. Al knew how hard it was to breathe here now; he felt like he was slowly being suffocated by a hot plastic bag.

"Thanks, Al," he wheezed, shuffling closer and nuzzling Alin's shoulder.

He just rubbed Tsvetan's arm, still lying on his back and staring, unfocused, at the ceiling, which was almost invisible in the orange-grey smoke as it swirled slowly around them. It was almost time to die.

"Shame you're going to die before you get any good at card tricks."

"Ass," Tsvetan mumbled, punching him ever so lightly in the stomach, "why am I even in love with you?"

Alin blinked. No, that wasn't right. Had he misheard? Maybe he was becoming disorientated from the lack of oxygen. He could feel himself slowly losing consciousness and everything was swimming. He was making it all up.

But he had to be certain.

"What did you say?" he gasped.

"Oh… you weren't meant to hear that," Tsvetan looked away, but there was no hint of embarrassment or shame on his face, "guess it doesn't matter now, huh? Yeah, I love you, I have for ages now. That's kinda why I stuck around so long, and probably why I always got upset at you. But that's in the past, and right now I don't really care if you hate me for it. We're dying anyway. There's nothing more that anyone can do to hurt me."

"I don't hate you," Alin didn't know what else to say.

"Thanks."

"That was brave, I have to say."

"There's nothing heroic about not giving a shit any more."

"Braver than me…" Alin looked away, "wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me when I tell you I love you too, not after what I've done to you…"

"Wha-" Tsvetan burst into another fit of coughs, chest rising and falling in a jagged motion. When he'd finished, he looked up at Alin expectantly. "Care to… explain?" By now each word was a struggle for them.

"Oh how did you not realise? Tsvetan Borisov, you have a heart of gold!" He turned on his side, his nose inches from Tsvetan's, cupping the man's scarred, bruised, face; "how could I not fall for you? And I can't believe it took losing you to realise." His stomach lurched as he burst into a fit of coughs; the air was making him sick. Tsvetan flinched.

"Losing me? I'm still here," the young man raised an eyebrow.

"Not for much longer," Alin looked away, "let's face it, if there's such thing as an afterlife, you'll be an angel sitting around heaven eating yogurt by the potful and singing to cute boy angels, and I'll be getting tortured in hell, like I deserve."

"You don't…"

Alin's glare cut Tsvetan off.

"Maybe God can see you're sorry for everything and let you in with me?" he tried again, giving a small, hopeful smile that ripped Alin's heart into pieces.

"Maybe," he muttered, trying to give the man  _some_  reassurance. "Hey, I've changed my mind; I don't want to make you kill me anymore."

"Good to know;" Tsvetan gave a humourless laugh, "because I couldn't have done it."

"I should've known," Alin sighed.

"And you? Would have gone through with it? If I asked?" Tsvetan coughed harshly, "if you had to?"

"I already have," Alin replied, "remember? But yes, if you were in unbearable pain, and there was no way to save you, then I would."

Tsvetan nodded, eyes drooping closed from the combined heat and smoke, causing them to water as tears spilled down his face. His head rested against Alin shoulder, too weak to fight for breath any longer. Alin felt the fire press against the back of the shirt, the crate they were hiding behind now ablaze as the flames began to creep towards them, licking at Alin's body as it started to kill him. It was far too hot, and Alin could feel his back burning as his shirt began to melt into his skin. The pain shot through him like an electric current and he tried to scream, but no sound came out. He tossed and turned in silent agony, his mind a numb whirlwind of terror. Make it stop. Anything but this. Why couldn't the smoke have taken him first?

He reached out blindly, holding the apparent body of his friend as he prayed this would be over soon. He was slipping, going under and getting lost in a sea of smoke and pain. He could no longer see, and the only sound was the roaring flames surrounding him.

He believed the hands pulling him away were his imagination. His brain felt fried and everything was disorientated, nothing feeling real anymore, except the pain in his back. But the hands pried him away from Tsvetan and rolled him onto his stomach, dragging him away by his ankles.

They were taking him to hell.

Alin tried to cry out once more, but he remained silent. He was going down to hell, and would never see Tsvetan again. He just let himself be dragged away in a blurred mess of pain and loss, too weak to think straight. He couldn't open his eyes through the smoke and just accepted what was happening, mind too numb to full understand.

A sudden wave of crisp, fresh air washed over him as hands pushed him, face down, onto cold, damp grass and water was poured over his back. A quiet hissing sound was heard as the flames were put out thoroughly and he was wrapped in some form of blanket to stop them sprouting up again. Alin was still too weak and in pain to open his eyes, not fully understanding what was happening. He was supposed to be dead. And where was Tsvetan? Alin wanted his friend here with him, and as the blanket was removed, and his shirt cut away, he tried to feebly reach out, in case the other was nearby. But there was nothing.

He was lifted up slightly as the remains of his shirt were pulled away, except whatever had melted into his back, and he was set down again, the grass tickling and cooling his upper body. More water was poured over him, and his back was wrapped up again. He could feel the heat leaning him, but the pain remained, and he moaned feebly.

He was poked and prodded, his body being examined whilst his began to slip away again. Around him, there were urgent shouts and sirens and familiar voices crying out. For him, apparently.

He swore he heard Katya scream just before he passed out.


	25. Lines and tubes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You got wires, going in  
> You got wires, coming out of your skin  
> You got tears, making tracks  
> I got tears, that are scared of the facts
> 
> …
> 
> Hunapo- New Zealand
> 
> Stelios- Cyprus (just to remind you all)

Alin couldn't be sure of what exactly had awoken him. Maybe it was the bright sunlight through the window, which radiated off the white walls; or possibly the strong smell of disinfectant; it could've been the cries and moans coming from down the hall and the room he was in; or it was simply the fact that he had been asleep for a long time, and just needed to wake up. Nevertheless, Alin blearily opened his eyes, blinking several times in protest at the light before they finally became adjusted to it.

He was on his back, staring at the blank ceiling as he slowly became more and more awake. As feelings of sleepiness and confusion left him, pain and irritation quickly replaced them. He hissed at the stinging in his back, and the twinge in his chest every time he breathed in. Where was he? A hospital, maybe? It made sense, from what he could remember.

With a groan, Alin turned his head to the right, finding a collection of beeping, flashing machines that were attached to lines snaking in and out of his body. Behind that, there was a curtain, blocking his view from the rest of the ward and its patients. He lifted his head up slightly, looking at one tube attached to his lower arm, just staring at it without thinking.

He tried to piece together the events that led him to become hospitalised, but it was just a blur to him. There was a fire, a fight… he'd gone to a big house to save his friend.

_Tsvetan!_

He'd brought the ransom money for Tsvetan's release, but they'd suddenly raised the price without telling him and he'd been forced to fight for their lives. He'd lost. They'd burned.

But now? Apparently someone had called the emergency services, but who? Possibly one of the others, after waiting three hours. Had he spent three whole hours in there? Wow, time sure does get distorted when you don't know if you'll survive until morning.

_But where was Tsvetan now?_

They'd been prized apart by the fire fighters, and Alin had remained separated from him since. Surely Tsvetan had been pulled out too, right? Unless they thought he was already dead and had just left him down there… No! They would have brought him out too, just in case.

"Tsve… Tsvet…" he groaned, flailing his arms feebly. He had to find him. He had to know Tsvetan was safe and alive. Or at least alive…

"Hey, calm down there," a soft, accented voice told him, and a smiling face cut off the light, "you'll do yourself an injury if you struggle!"

"I have to find Tsvetan!" Alin looked up at the face pleadingly, "I have to see that he's okay!" The face belonged to a young-ish man with curly brown hair and a kind expression. His dress conveyed that he was a doctor.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stay put."

"No! I need to get up!"

"Sir," the doctor sighed, "if you do that you might pull your catheter out."

"I'm not getting up!" Alin rested his head against the pillow, staring expectantly at his doctor. "Can you at least tell me where he is? Is Tsvetan in a stable condition? How bad are his injuries? I need to know!"

"See for yourself. He's over in the bed next to you."

"Oh," Alin turned his head to the left, and found his friend lying in an identical bed, the one at the end of the room, breathing through a plastic tube inserted into his mouth, with lines snaking in and out of him, skin red, sore, bruised and dotted with stitches and bandages. His face and hair had been cleaned of the grime and dirt once covering it, and his head injury was finally sewn up. The bandages were particularly thick around his wrists, which sat still either side of him.

"He won't be waking up for a long time," The young doctor commented.

Alin's breath caught at the first part of that sentence; "but he will wake up, right? Eventually?"

"Who knows? The poor bastard's seriously malnourished, and got hit with carbon monoxide poisoning too. Well, you had that as well, but have more or less recovered. Because of his condition, everything's taking longer to heal with him. I… can't give any guarantees, but hopefully Mr Borisov will pull through. If he survived this long, then there's a chance he'll make it now."

"I see…" Alin knew he should be positive, but he didn't want to get his hopes up. He knew what it was like to be so close to saving Tsvetan that it was painful, then having it ripped away in an instant.

"Oh, I'm Dr Hunapo Davies," Dr Davies held out their hand, smiling warmly, "I'm one of the doctors in the burns centre, and I'll be looking after you and Mr Borisov during your stay."

"Err… Nice to meet you, doctor," Alin took his hand, weakly shaking it.

"Nice to meet you too, Mr Radacanu, though I wish it was under more pleasant circumstances."

"Indeed," Alin sighed, "so… are you gonna tell me what's going on? You know, what's wrong with me and all?"

"Of course," Dr Davies nodded, picking up a clipboard of notes from a side table, "you were out of it for a couple of days, what with the shock of it all, and smoke inhalation. You spent the first twenty-four hours breathing through a tube, much like Borisov's, but after that we felt it was safe enough to move you on to a little nose line."

"Oh," Alin gently brushed his finger against his top lip, feeling the tiny, plastic tube protruding from his nostrils.

"You suffered third degree burns on your back," continued Dr Davies, "especially where your shirt melted into it. Luckily, the emergency services were able to get to you before the whole thing could catch fire. We've scoured the shirt off with a clean towel, soaked and dressed the damaged area. You won't need grafts, thankfully, but your dressing will need to be changed every eight hours or so."

"I see. Anything else?"

"A few scrapes, some bruised ribs," Dr Davies shrugged, "nothing major. It might hurt when you breathe, but that'll go in a few weeks."

"Fantastic," Alin replied flatly, "so what happened to, you know, the people that done it?"

"Aleksander Jensen and Rose Kirkland have been arrested and charged with arson, attempted murder, kidnapping and torture. And that's just what they did to you guys," Dr Davies explained, "other cases have been popping up; people who now feel brave enough to come forward and speak against them, now they're in custody and can't get at them. They'll be going down for a long while."

"Oh that's brilliant," Alin could have cried with relief. "So my name's been cleared?"

"Of that, at least," Dr Davies looked away, "sir, I didn't want to say anything that might cause stress and halt recovery, but…"

"Yes? Might as well spit it out!"

"After you're discharged from here, you'll be taken into police custody immediately in advance to your trial."

"Trial? What did I do?"

"What  _didn't_  you do?" Hunapo shook his head, "you've been stealing and selling stolen goods for years now! The police told me all about you and Mr Borisov's little plans and schemes."

"Ah, and that doesn't, you know, make you think less of me?"

"It's not my job to think less of you. What you've done won't stop me from healing you. Both of you have been through quite an ordeal and need proper care. Every thing else can wait."

"Thank you," Alin nodded, "but it's unfair though! I don't need this…"

"Oh I knew I shouldn't have told you," Dr Davies rested his head in his hands; "look, just try not to think of it yet. Focus on your own health."

"I'll try," Alin glanced back at Tsvetan, who continued to sleep on.

"Like I said, he's severely under-nourished," Dr Davies commented, "but we have him on a drip, so he's slowly getting his strength back. The stronger he gets, the faster he can heal, and he's getting stronger every day."

"Please make it," he whispered.

"Mr Borisov is getting his treatment, and you should be getting yours too. I'll help you sit up, then we'll change your dressing."

"Right!" Alin allowed Hunapo to pull him into a sitting position, removing his hospital gown and exposing a wad of thick bandages covering his torso.

"Oh, I should warn you, this will sting a bit."

…

"Sir, everything's ready for your hydrotherapy now." Dr Davies trotted into the ward, closely followed by one of the student nurses.

A few more days had passed, and Alin was off most of his intravenous lines, eating solid foods, and could walk around the ward freely, and was encouraged to do so. He sat next to Tsvetan as much as he could, just watching the man's chest slowly rising and falling. Sometimes he'd pace back and fourth at the foot of his friend's bed, stealing anxious glances at the sleeping torture victim.

Tsvetan's heartbeat was slower than normal, according to Dr Davies, because of his prolonged exposure to freezing conditions, which slowed the healing process down even more. His broken ribs and smoke inhalation made it harder to breathe, and they still didn't know if the carbon monoxide poisoning would have any lasting damage to the brain and heart. The doctors had even tried hyperbaric oxygenation, but Alin still didn't understand what that meant. Something to do with giving Tsvetan more oxygen at a higher pressure, from what he could remember being told. Still, as long as it worked…

"Oh that's great," Alin stood up to look at the new arrivals. Dr Davies had explained what hydrotherapy was a few days ago, and said they'd go through with that particular treatment as soon as Alin was well enough. And now, apparently, he was.

He turned to face the two doctors, and nearly jumped back in shock.

"Stelios Andreou?" he gasped, "what the hell are you doing here? I thought you were locked away in a safe house with your brother and Kiku."

"Well, now I'm not," Stelios shrugged, "once the police found you were innocent, and, well, at death's door, they decided it was safe to let us out. So here I am!"

"But how are you here working in a hospital?" Alin asked; "you're way too young to be a doctor! Er, no offense, Hunapo."

"None taken…"

"I'm on placement. Doing medicine at college, so this is to gain more experience."

"Fair enough," Alin replied; "how come I haven't seen you around though?"

"Well," Stelios twitched his shoulders, playing with his one long lock of hair, "I've been going around all the different wards, haven't I? I was here when they brought you in though. Got to stick the catheter up you and everything. I thought of it as my little revenge for you causing all that trouble for my family."

"I prefer your brother."

"I prefer your unconscious friend."

"Now, now, gentlemen," chided Dr Davies, "let's be professional here. Mr Radacanu needs his treatment."

"Of course," Stelios smiled sweetly, "so, I'm sure you know how hydrotherapy works, Alin."

"Can you refresh my memory?"

"Well," Stelios tapped his chin, "we lay you on this stretcher, face down, and put you in a shower. You get sprayed with lukewarm water, which cleans the burned area and washes away old dressings ready for the new bandages. You will also be under an anaesthetic during the treatment."

"Well done, good boy," Alin nodded, "just wanted to make sure you've done your homework."

"I  _am_  a professional…"

"If you say so. But the anaesthetic won't be necessary," continued Alin, "I'll be fine without one."

"Are you sure?" Stelios glanced at Dr Davies for reassurance.

"He's pretty set on it," the man replied, "says he doesn't want any anaesthetics at all, in case his friend wakes up while he's off in lala-land."

"It'll hurt though…"

"I already hurt! Everywhere! It's like having a massive hangover in your back that doesn't go away!"

"Fine…"

"Now," Dr Davies took him by the arm, "if you'll just follow me, Mr Radacanu, we'll take you to a special room where you'll receive your treatment."

"Thank you." Alin was led down the hospital corridor, passing patients, doctors, nurses, visitors and all sorts of different people, some in far worse shape than he was. Dr Davies stopped outside a door marked 'hydrotherapy' and pushed it open.

Alin found himself in a medium sized room that reminded him somewhat of swimming pool changing rooms. It smelled of chlorine too. There was a tiny bed on wheels in the middle and a tank, with a shower head attached, hung from the ceiling. There were two other nurses already in the room, apparently setting everything up for the procedure.

"Now, Mr Radacanu," began Dr Davies, "if you could just pop your gown off and Stelios will remove your dressing for you. Then we can get started."

Alin obeyed, shrugging off his thin hospital gown then allowing the student to remove the bandages, hissing at the pain. His back always hurt, especially when he moved. But he was encouraged to move about by Dr Davies as often as he could, to stop then injury from becoming still and restrictive. The last of the bandages were removed and the cold air hit his back, then Stelios led him over to the little bed.

"If you'd like to lie on the shower trolley," Dr Davies told him, "then we can start."

Alin nodded, climbing onto the trolley and lying on his stomach. The plastic over the trolley was cool, cushioned and smelled of disinfectant. Dr Davies walked over, taking the shower head that was passed to him and patting Alin on the part of his shoulder that wasn't burnt.

"Here we go," water spurted from the shower head and Dr Davies tested it on his hand before beginning to wash his patient.

As soon as the water hit his back, Alin began to scream.

…

"There we go, all patched up," Dr Davies finished putting new dressing on Alin's back and stood back, allowing the young man to put his hospital gown back on. Several more days had passed since that somewhat disastrous first treatment, and Alin was now used to his hydrotherapy sessions, deciding it was probably best to use accept painkillers beforehand. It was starting to slip into his routine and the few minutes of being sprayed with warm water were becoming normal to him. A good thing too, because he'd be doing the therapy every day until he left.

"Thank you, doctor," he said, smoothing down his gown and smiling. He liked Dr Davies; the man's calm, kind nature comforted him greatly.

"Sir!" Stelios, who'd been watching the other burns patients back in the ward, burst in, almost slipping on the wet floor.

"Yes, Andreou?" Dr Davies's thick brows knotted together in concern; what had happened to make the student run out on those in his care?

"It's Borisov, sir. He's awake!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics at the top are from 'Wires' by athlete, a song I find fitting for a scary number of my fics…
> 
> If you want any of the treatments or injuries mentioned in this chapter explained in further detail, don't be afraid to ask!


	26. Chapter 26

"Before you go running off-"

Alin didn't wait for Stelios to finish, bursting into the hall. Tsvetan was awake? Did he know where he was? What if the carbon monoxide had damaged his brain? He needed to get to his friend and tell him everything was fine. And more importantly, he had to know for himself if everything would be fine.

"Mr Radacanu! Slow down!"

Alin ignored Dr Davies as he darted down the corridor, bursting into the ward. He skidded over to Tsvetan's bed, leaning over him and finding two green eyes staring back up at him.

"Hey," he whispered, like a parent comforting their child after a nightmare, "how are you holding up?"

Tsvetan just smiled around his breathing tube, eyes bright. Alin wasn't sure if he'd even heard him.

"Mr Radacanu," Dr Davies panted, finally catching up to him, "I really wish you'd listen to me more often."

Alin looked away, watching as Stelios jogged towards them and Dr Davies sighed.

"I had to see for myself," he replied, shrugging and shuffling awkwardly.

"I know, but you could've injured yourself, again."

"Yeah? Well I didn't."

"That's not the point…" Dr Davies groaned. Alin ignored him, turning back to Tsvetan and finding his eyes had closed again.

"Well, he was awake when I checked on him," Stelios shrugged, peering over Alin's shoulder with an apologetic expression.

"Oh he was," Alin stood back to let Dr Davies examine his friend, "I saw it. His eyes were wide open and he smiled at me."

"Are you sure it wasn't your imagination?"

"I know what I saw," Alin growled, "don't you dare even  _think_  that I'm delusional."

"You  _have_  been cut off from the rest of the world for nearly a week  _and_ have experienced severe trauma-"

"Don't start doing that! I know we haven't gotten along very well but please don't start planting those kind of thoughts in my head! Reality may be scaring me right now, but a clear head is all I have to keep me going."

"A clear head  _and_  your friend," Stelios reminded him, "I'm sure you're wishing with all your heart that he recovers-"

"You saw it too!" Alin was losing patience fast.

"I could've…" Stelios played with his hair nervously, "been mistaken? I've been really tired lately and might be seeing things."

"No, he's definitely no longer comatose," Dr Davies told them, "he's sleeping lightly now though."

Alin shot Stelios a smug grin, before moving over to Tsvetan's bedside, stroking his friend's hand gently with one finger, careful to avoid the bandages around his wrists and fingers.

"So he'll wake up again?"

"Of course! He might keep drifting in and out of consciousness for a while though." Dr Davies opened his mouth to speak again, but decided against it.

"What is it?" Alin asked.

"Nothing really, I just… I don't understand how he got carbon monoxide poisoning and you didn't."

Alin looked at the hand he was stroking guiltily, wondering if he should reply.

"Okay," Dr Davies sighed as Stelios wandered off to take care of the other patients, "what happened?"

"Well," Alin glanced up at him sheepishly, "for the most part, we were lying flat on the ground, like you're supposed to in a fire, but there was this point where Tsvet was on his knees with his head held really high and shouting and stuff. I think that's when he got hit by the carbon monoxide, since he went downhill really quickly after that."

"Why was he sitting upright?"

"I asked him to," Alin played with his hands nervously, "well, I asked him to, erm, euthanize me."

"Care to elaborate on that statement, Mr Radacanu?"

"I've told you before that I'm terrified of fire and I… I couldn't go through with burning to death! So I got a bit of glass and asked him to cut my throat."

Dr Davies closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but instead of scolding Alin, he simply said, "thank you for telling me," before walking off, leaving Alin with his sleeping friend and the overwhelming sensation of shame and failure.

…

Alin glared from his bed at Dr Davies as he explained to Tsvetan where he was, what had happened, and what treatment he was to receive during his stay. He tried to be a patient as possible- Dr Davies was helping them both greatly- but he was desperate to talk to Tsvetan.

Like Dr Davies had suggested, Tsvetan woke up several times since first opening his eyes the day before, and it wasn't until about fifteen minutes ago that he'd remained awake for more than a few moments, even sitting up and talking.

Eventually, Dr Davies moved on to another patient, and Alin flew out of bed, bounding across the short space between their beds and sliding into the chair next to Tsvetan's headboard.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," he flashed a brief grin, but his smile fell the longer he stared at his friend. Tsvetan gave a startled jump before smiling brightly back, finally off the breathing tube and onto a thin nose line, like Alin used to have. His face and arms were red with first degree burns, blistered second degree burns covering his cheeks. His chest rose and fell slowly, and, through his thin hospital gown, Alin could see bones sticking out of papery, grey, torn and bruised skin. His shoulders, chest and neck were dotted with fading yellow contusion and pinkish abrasion scars.

"Morning Al," he mumbled back, punctuating that sentence with a cough.

"Good God, what have I done to you?"

" _They_  did it to me, Alin, not you," Tsvetan rolled his eyes, "enough with the guilt. I have other things to worry about."

"You do indeed," Alin took the clipboard full of Tsvetan's medical notes off the bedside table and read through them, letting out a long whistle, "wow it seems to go on forever. Hey, you're getting hydrotherapy too? It probably won't hurt as much for you, luckily. Well, now you're on the up, physically, they'll probably focus on the psychological stuff."

"Psychological?" Tsvetan looked at him nervously.

"Yeah. Says here when you've recovered here you're gonna spend some time in the psychiatric ward doing therapy and seeing a counsellor."

"But I don't need…"

"Tsvet, please," Alin stared at him evenly, "I know the people who did this to you. You can't have gone through what you did without it having _some_  lasting effect."

Tsvetan's lip quivered, but he didn't reply. He stared down at his hands, resting on his stomach, breathing in, and out.

"So…" when he finally spoke, there was a tremble in his voice, and his eyes darted about the room, "is it nice here?"

"Yeah, I guess," Alin shrugged, "it's cleaner than our place but stinks something awful. The staff are kind as hell, even if Hera's shit of a brother gets on my nerves sometimes."

"Stelios is here?"

"On placement. Now that I think of it, the food could do with touching up too."

"Bland?"

"No, just disgusting," Alin shook his head, barking out a laugh, "I'll tell you what Tsvet, you're so lucky you're on a drip."

Tsvetan stared at him flatly, eye twitching.

"Seriously, Al?"

"That was kind of insensitive, wasn't it?"

"Just a little."

"Don't worry," Alin stroked Tsvetan's hair, careful to avoid brushing against any stitches, "you'll be on solid foods again soon."

"Cheers…"

"So what… what did they, you know, do to you?"

Tsvetan tensed. He looked up at Alin, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he shuddered, gripping the sheets with shaking hands, "but Dr Davies will make me tell him everything. As will this counsellor person, and God knows how many police. Don't make me relive it more then necessary."

"I understand."

"You can listen though," Tsvetan added, "when I tell Dr Davies, so you understand it all."

"Thank you," Alin smiled warmly, "still, at least it's all over."

"Except it's not," Tsvetan looked at him with wide, dismayed eyes, "it'll never be over."

"What do you mean? Jensen and Kirkland are in police custody! You're free! We're free!" Alin scoffed, raising his arms in the air as an added gesture. Surely Tsvetan wouldn't know they were to be arrested for their own crimes yet. Dr Davies wouldn't make the mistake of telling him too, right?

"That won't stop me remembering," Tsvetan protested, "you think I'm just gonna forget a little thing like… like…"

"Being tortured," Alin finished. Oh, so that's what he meant…

Tsvetan nodded, eyes red and watery.

"I'm scared," he held out his shaking arms and Alin responded by pulling him into a gentle hug, letting the other sob noisily into his shoulder.

"Mr Radacanu, you better not be upsetting my patients," Dr Davies sighed as he pushed the curtains around Alin and Tsvetan's hospital beds open, slipping inside before closing them again.

"Not deliberately," Alin replied, patting Tsvetan's back softly as the other clung to him.

"Either way, it's time for your hydrotherapy session. One of the nurses will take you to the shower room whilst I try and calm down Mr Borisov."

"Okay… let go, Tsvet," Alin greatly prized his friend's arms from around him, lying Tsvetan gently back down on the bed. The other cried silently, refusing to look at either of them and Alin could tell that he must be feeling absolutely humiliated and pathetic. He used to be such a proud man…

"I'll talk to you later," he stood up to leave, "just remember, you're a strong guy."

"No I'm not," Tsvetan mumbled, "they broke me."

"Pah. Nothing can break you!"

Tsvetan didn't reply, and Alin left without another word.

…

When Alin returned from hydrotherapy, he found Dr Davies still sitting beside Tsvetan, trying to coax an answer out of him.

"Please," he soothed, "you have to tell me what happened so we can work on treating you for it."

"What do you even know?" Tsvetan's face was twisted into a snarl, "you do burns, not… other stuff."

"That doesn't make me less of a professional, or a human," Dr Davies sighed, "I need to make notes for your therapist so they can be ready for you and give you sessions specific to your needs. But I also need to know what I'm dealing with whilst you're in my care. Please, talking about it will help too."

"But… oh hey Al," Tsvetan looked past Dr Davies, staring at his friend with a stony expression as the other moved to his own bed.

"Mr Radacanu, would it be okay if you waited outside for a bit? Maybe even head to the canteen for an early lunch."

"Tsvet said I'm allowed to stay for these things," Alin told him, "isn't that right?"

"Actually, Al, I'd rather you didn't stay anymore, sorry." Tsvetan was sat up, looking down at his hands and breathing heavily, a stormy expression on his face.

"But you said I need-"

"You can listen, but I'd rather you were the other side of the curtains."

"But-"

" _Just go_ ," Tsvetan hissed, tears beginning to form.

"Mr Radacanu, please…"

"I'm going!" Alin rolled his eyes dramatically, disappearing through the curtains.

Dr Davies watched Tsvetan for a few minutes before calmly asking: "so why did you change your mind about Alin?"

"Didn't want him to see me cry again," the other mumbled.

"But he's seen you cry before."

"Exactly, he must already think of me as pathetic. I can't take it any more. They… they broke me into pieces and I'll never be myself again." Tsvetan's words grew angrier with each tear that ran down his face, "why bother trying to fix me? I'll never be any good to anyone anymore! I'm a wreck! It's too fucking humiliating! Everything they did… I can't escape it! I'll never be in control of myself again."

"What did they do? If you tell me, you'll-"

"Just cry again!" Tsvetan hugged his knees, sobbing into his bed sheets.

Dr Davies sighed; "look, you need to stop thinking everyone is either strong or weak. And stop thinking that crying and being scared is feeble. You've been through an extremely traumatic experience, Mr Borisov, and nearly died from it; if that isn't a good enough excuse to have a cry, then what is? No one here will judge you for having a normal reaction. I'm not going to lie: what you went through will have long lasting effects that will leave you feeling isolated and terrified amongst other things, but you can pull through if you stop trying to hide your feelings, I can assure you."

Tsvetan did speak for ages; he just stared at his hands, which twitched and shook nervously. Without warning, his face crumpled and he burst into a fresh round of tears.

"They threatened me," he choked out, "they kept saying all these ways they were going to kill me and I was terrified they'd do it and sometimes Kirkland would pretend she was actually going to. I couldn't see her, but she'd press a knife to my throat and I thought that was it, I was going to die. But she never went through with it and it was so terrifying just being that close to death over and over." He paused for a moment, rocking backwards and forwards lightly and trying to steady his breath.

"I couldn't see anything with that blindfold," he continued, taking Dr Davies' hand and squeezing it for support, "didn't know where I was, or what was happening. I hate the dark anyways but there? It was this constant horror I couldn't escape! Just always… on edge… living in fear… I thought my heart would explode it beat so fast during the first week or so…

"They threatened my family too," he blinked back fresh tears, face contorted with pain and wretchedness; "they said after they were done with me they were going to fly to Bulgaria and track down and do the same to every member of my family. I believed them too! But the thought of my mother, my father, my tiny, old grandmother! I thought of my little nieces and nephews and kept picturing them… where I was… My cousin had just given birth, you know? To a little baby girl. I saw them. I saw everyone, tied up and mutilated! It wouldn't leave my head!"

"They're safe," Dr Davies assured him, "worried though. The US embassy in Bulgaria has informed them you're safe and you can phone them later, if you like."

"I'd love to," Tsvetan bit his lip nervously, "but what if I..?"

"Your family just want to hear your voice again; they will understand if you're very emotional right now. The media has left few details out about what happened so they know what you've been through."

"They do?" Tsvetan shuddered, "that makes me feel so naked…"

"I'm sorry, for everything."

"It's fine," Tsvetan settled back down on the bed, apparently calmer, "bound to happen, I guess."

Dr Davies just nodded.

"I'm not going to have a normal life again, am I?"

"Now, now, Mr Borisov," chided Dr Davies, "yes, what has happened will affect you greatly, but that doesn't mean you can't lead a relatively peaceful, happy life, with the right therapies and medicines."

"So that's a 'no' on the normal life then?" Tsvetan shrugged, "to be honest," he added, nodding at the curtains, "when you're in love with that loser, you don't get to have a normal life."

…

Sleep was evading Alin. He couldn't find a comfortable position to doze in nor could he stop his mind from racing. He'd heard everything that was exchanged between Dr Davies and Tsvetan, and couldn't thank the doctor enough for knowing the right things to say to calm Tsvetan down, though they were far from out of the woods where his friend was concerned.

And how could he even begin to tell Tsvetan that they were to be arrested? He couldn't let it happen. Tsvetan was far too ill to be put through a place like that. He'd never recover! But how could he convince the police that Tsvetan was innocent? Any witness could say with ease that the two were partners in crime, though it was clear to anyone that Alin was the guy with the ideas whilst Tsvetan was just happy to go along with anything that earned them money. Oh what could he do?

A fearful moan interrupted his train of thoughts, and Alin turned to find Tsvetan tossing feebly in his sleep, face contorted with pain and dread. The poor man was having a night terror, Alin realised as he ran over to his fitful friend.

"Hey, wake up," he whispered, rubbing Tsvetan's arm softly, "it's just a dream. It's not real, whatever you're seeing." He kept whispering comforting words to Tsvetan, but the other didn't hear him.

"N-no… get…" he tossed from side to side, struggling weakly against Alin's grip on his arm.

"Tsvet! Wake up!"

Tsvetan cried out, shooting up and screaming.

"Get away!" He pushed Alin away with surprising strength, trembling and perspiring, not even recognising his friend. "I'll… don't hurt..!"

"It's me! Al!" Alin stood a metre or so away, watching whilst Tsvetan slowly stopping shouting out, realising where he was and turning to face him in horror.

"Al?" he croaked, "when did you get here?"

"I've always been here," Alin looked at the other in confusion.

"No, you weren't… that wasn't you…"

"What's going on?" one of the nurses on night duty, a man that Alin recalled went by the name of Muhammad Hassan, burst in, bounding over to Tsvetan.

"Nightmare," Alin explained, standing back and allowing the nurse to soothe Tsvetan, reassuring him that it was all just a bad dream.

Alin prayed he was the one having the nightmare, but this was all too despairingly real.

…

"Those cops by the ward door are freaking me out," Elizabeta admitted, sitting down next to Alin's bed. Although Katya and Eduard visited as often as their jobs would allow, and Toni popped in every now and then, this was the first time Alin's proclaimed arch-nemesis had dropped by to see how him and Tsvetan were recovering.

"Well, this is a criminal case," Alin explained, "though to be honest I'm not sure if they're here to stop anyone from killing me and Tsvet, or to stop us from trying to run away. As if Tsvet could run anywhere…"

"How's he holding up?" Elizabeta glanced over at the other man, napping quietly in his bed after yet another restless night. For days now he'd wake up screaming, not knowing where he was or who was with him. There were times when he was awake where he didn't recognise Alin, or thought his friend was someone else, and shy away. Other times he'd stare blankly at the curtains, or glare downwards sullenly and refuse to talk to anyone. Sometimes, when he thought no one was there to see, he'd sit up, staring at his arms and crying silently.

"Not good," Alin admitted, "those bastards have messed him up badly and I don't know what to do."

"You don't need to do anything to him," Elizabeta replied, "that's the specialists' job. You just be his friend and stick with him."

"You know I can't be there for him," Alin stared at her evenly, "they have enough evidence to put me away for a while now, and that's if Jensen and Kirkland keep their mouths shut about me being one of them."

"I thought you both were getting nicked."

"We're supposed to," Alin admitted, "but I have the start of a plan that'll hopefully mean they drop all charges against Tsvet."

"Is this another stupid, reckless idea?"

Alin tapped the side of his nose, grinning, "maybe." His smile fell and he sighed; "look, Liza, I don't want Tsvet going to prison in his state. That would be it! He'd never recover!"

"Of course…"

"You'll look after him, won't you?" Alin gazed at her pleadingly, "I know we haven't gotten along, but you have no reason for resentment towards Tsvetan."

"Of course! Roddy and I will visit him as much as possible."

"Thanks," Alin nodded, "and maybe when he gets his strength back, you can take him out of hospital for day trips. Somewhere relaxing, maybe?"

"I guess," Elizabeta rubbed her chin, "if I can find somewhere that caters for people with drips."

"Well there's no need to call him that," Alin sniffed.

"You're not funny; are you aware of that?"

Alin glared at her, "I'm hilarious, thank you very much."

"And how are you holding up?" Elizabeta rested her chin in her hands, smiling sweetly, "in unimaginable pain? On the verge of a slow, agonising death?"

"You'll be pleased to know my back's still sore," Alin growled, "the treatment's just as painful, it hurts when I breathe, and I've had pipes shoved up places no pipe had any business being shoved up."

"That's simply music to my ears!"

"Shame you didn't wait a little longer before calling the police," Alin spat, "then my whole body would've been a mess of melted polyester."

"Me?" Elizabeta blinked, "I didn't call the cops. None of us did. There was still half an hour left before we were supposed to when we saw the flames coming from the big house. We called the emergency services _then_  but they said someone had already told them and a fire truck was on its way!"

"So who called them?"

"Natalya! Before Aleksander locked her in her room, she swiped his mobile out of his pocket and used it to call the police after they'd run, saying she was trapped in a burning building with two other people. She's also testifying against them in court."

"Oh, I had no idea," Alin hadn't given Natalya much thought since she'd beaten him, but now he found himself caring for the girl once more.

"Katya never mentioned it? Wow, she must be really upset about the whole thing."

"I'm not surprised!" Alin exclaimed, "if it had been my brother forced to…"

"Of course," Elizabeta nodded before standing up, "I best be going now. Family to keep in line and all."

"See you round…"

"Oh, one more thing," Elizabeta pulled her phone out of her pocket, holding it up in front of Alin.

"What are you doing? Wait… no don't take pictures! I look awful right now! Put that thing away before I stick it where the sun doesn't shine!"

Elizabeta chuckled at the pictures on her phone, "sorry, I just had to get one or two of you like this. I think I'll get it blown up and hanged above the fireplace."

"Won't that scare Franz?" Alin tried.

"Oh he'll learn to find it as funny as I do."

Alin couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took ages to start this cause I couldn't get the wording right but sure enough, the words started flowing like Bulgaria's tears…
> 
> I'll see myself out…


	27. Always for Tsvetan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niran Mookjai- Thailand
> 
> Arjun Kapur- India
> 
> Nguyễn Kim-ly- Vietnam
> 
> …
> 
> Warning, this chapter contains interrogation scenes. There's no violence, but mentions of manipulation and intimidation, so be warned.

Alin didn't like police interrogation one bit, and it hadn't ever started yet.

He found himself in a tiny room with two policemen, sat on a rickety, uncomfortable chair in the corner of the room. It was a cold, unfamiliar place, with just the three chairs, a desk and a large mirror making up the furnishings. There were no posters or framed photographs on the wall, not even a vase of flowers on the desk. Alin knew the mirror was one-way, and that made him even more nervous. Any number of people could be listening in. This whole place put him on edge. He wanted out.

Earlier that morning, the police had picked him up just as Dr Davies was discharging him from hospital, allowing Alin to change into a simple shirt and trousers, say goodbye to a fitful and distressed Tsvetan before leading him onto a police car and taking him to the station. He'd barely had time to give his friend a quick forehead kiss and tell him everything would be fine. And everything  _would_  be fine, right? Tsvetan would spend a few more days in the burns unit, until his face had cleared up, then be moved to the psychiatric ward, where he'd get his much-needed counselling sessions. And if all went well with Alin's interrogation, Tsvetan would not end up here too. He'd get the freedom he deserved, and Alin wouldn't be around to ruin his life further.

He hoped their friends would look after him though. Katya, Eduard and Toni had all made promises to visit as often as they could, but they could only be there for him during visiting hours. Alin doubted there would be anyone at that hospital that cared enough to comfort Tsvetan when his night terrors woke him up, terrified and screaming, or let him cry on them when he was emotionally drained, but he didn't know how those places worked. Maybe he was just being cynical.

Alin remembered a certain offhand comment he'd made to Tsvetan, one evening when they were in the pub together, about how if they'd ever got arrested, Alin would take all the blame and make sure Tsvetan was kept out of things. To be completely honest, he'd never thought that he would ever need to live up to those words, but he was not the sort of person to not stand by the things he said.

He just hoped he could fool the law.

The desk stood between him and the door, with the second detective sat behind it. He was a young man in a smart suit with outrageously spiky hair and glasses. The other policeman, the actual interrogator, was sat in front of him, in a somewhat comfier chair than Alin's, smiling politely at him. He was also in a suit, with neat black hair, deep brown eyes and thick eyebrows. His legs were crossed and he seemed relaxed, welcoming, even, if he wasn't giving off such an intimidating vibe, that is. They were both facing each other, perpendicular to the desk.

"So, Mr Radacanu," the interrogator, who had introduced himself as Mr Kapur, began; "how are you today?"

"Err, alright, I guess."

"And your injuries are healing?"

"Oh yes," Alin tried to keep his voice even, despite the feelings of unease and discomfort brewing inside of him. Mr Kapur seemed friendly enough; surely neither of them would run into any problems whilst Alin was being questioned. He tried to keep his answers short though; once a person started talking, it's hard to stop. Constant chatter also made it harder to lie. Alin couldn't be thankful enough to himself for having the sense to read through Tsvetan's criminology books on nights when he was sat alone bored whilst his roommate was at college. He couldn't remember most of it, but hoped it would be enough to stay on top of whatever interrogation techniques they threw at him. "It's still a little sore," he continued, "and I still have to go back to hospital every few days for my hydrotherapy. But I'll heal."

"It must be expensive though," Mr Kapur continued, leaning back and smiling sympathetically, "all those medical bills."

"Yeah," Alin admitted, "and I was really worried about it, but Dr Davies said the money I raised for Tsvetan's ransom was being used to pay for it, since it was technically mine, whilst Mr Edelstein is covering the rest."

"Sounds like Mr Edelstein is a good friend."

"Yeah, but I'll have to pay him back sometime."

"Naturally," Mr Kapur agreed; "so will you return to full health then?"

"Yeah, though there will be scarring, but that's all. I'll have full mobility once it's stopped being all scabby and stiff."

"Well that's good, if you're a sporting man."

"I'm not," Alin laughed, "look at me! I'm more of a reader."

"Are you?" Mr Kapur looked at him in interest, "any kinds of book in particular?"

Alin wondered what the detective inspector hoped to achieve with this small talk, but went along with it for the time being; "I know it's childish, but I love fairytales. And romance novels. I'm such a sap, huh?"

"Not at all," Mr Kapur chuckled, "I'm fond of folklore and fairytales too. Have you ever read up on different folk takes from India?"

"Can't say that I have, sorry."

"You should, when you get the chance."

"I'll try to pop round to a library sometime," Alin looked between the two policemen uneasily; the other detective, a Mr Mookjai, had yet to speak. He seemed friendly too, and almost eager to make conversation, but he was just there to keep the tape record running and make sure no one was behaving in an unethical manner.

Alin looked at the little tape recorder on the desk. It was the only thing on there, besides Alin's handcuffs and a glass of water. Everything he said- everything anyone in this room said- the DVD box-sized device picked up on and recorded. He wondered who it was being recorded for, or if it was just in case there were any controversies that cropped up in this case. He briefly wondered if it was worth slapping himself and crying out for his own amusement, but decided against it. He was in enough damn trouble as it was.

Alin was still uncomfortable. Glancing at the large mirror to his left, he barely recognised the tired, aged wreck he had become. He felt smaller now, and more afraid, of, well, everything.

"Now, about your crimes…"

"Ah, yes," Alin exhaled, giving Mr Kapur an apologetic, sheepish grin.

"You've been accused of petty theft," Mr Kapur stood up, slowly wandering around the room, "we have found whole boxes of stolen goods in yours and Mr Borisov's apartment, ranging from clothes to toys to your television set."

Alin shrugged, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, "well…"

"No, no, don't tell me," Mr Kapur leaned against the mirror, inches from Alin's chair, "you were young, bored and wanted excitement. You liked the thrill of breaking into warehouses and wholesale stores and selling what you could find. You felt powerful when you broke the law and got away with it."

"Huh?" Alin wrinkled his nose, staring at Mr Kapur in confusion.  _What the hell was he on about?_

"No?" Mr Kapur shrugged, unperturbed, "oh well…"

"Look, I don't-"

"Well how about this: you two were poor, struggling to get by, and needed some way of earning money." Alin nodded slightly, barely noticing he was doing so, and Mr Kapur brightened, continuing his speech with a new vigour. "You felt let down by society and decided you didn't care for the law, since it didn't care for you. After long periods of unemployment, you felt like you had no hopes, and no other choices." He stepped forward, leaning heavily on Alin, but kept his voice soft and warm. "You were both a long way away from home, and your families, and felt isolated. You only had each other; two loners against the rest of the world."

"I missed my baby brother," Alin admitted.

"And you didn't want him to feel like you were a failure," Mr Kapur knelt down next to him, brown eyes staring right through him, "you wanted to provide for him, despite him living in another country."

"Yes!" Alin grinned, "Andrei needed me!"

"It's just unfortunate circumstances that led you to choosing the life you've been leading."

Alin looked away guiltily; "I'm-"

"You don't have to say it," Mr Kapur stood up, pacing back and forth in front of Alin, "you had to suspend morals to survive."

"I'm ready to confess," Alin blurted before the detective inspector could interrupt him again.

"What?" Mr Kapur looked taken aback- almost shaken- for a moment, before regaining his composure, "if that's what you wish…"

"Look, we all know I did it," Alin shrugged, "you have all this evidence against me and, well, I'm just trying to make this easier, mostly for me. You'll find me guilty anyway if I deny it so I might as well come clean. Yeah, I did it."

"What do you think?" Mr Kapur looked at his companion.

Mr Mookjai shrugged, "these things have happened before. Maybe Mr Radacanu gives into pressure easily."

Alin resented that comment, but didn't rise to it. He just remained blank, looking at the two policemen with only the mildest interest.

Mr Kapur didn't look convinced, but nodded, mouth pulled into a grimace; "guess it's time to get a confession out of him."

"But I just confessed!"

"We mean an official one," Mr Mookjai explained, speaking directly to Alin for the first time. His smile seemed genuine, no hint of maliciousness or slyness in it. "You have to speak into the tape recorder, state that you confessed willingly, and do so in the presence of two other people, besides Mr Kapur. I will be one of these witnesses, and we will bring in another officer to be the second."

"Another policeman?" Alin's eyes darted nervously between the other two. It was crowded enough in here without another intimidating, manipulative inspector throwing their weight around.

"It's the law," Mr Mookjai explained, shrugging. Alin nodded as Mr Kapur left to get this third witness and he leaned against the desk, trying to avoid Mr Mookjai's gaze.

"Would you like to talk about why you did it?"

"Sure, why not?" Alin sat up slightly, "you heard what the other guy said. I was desperately poor and needed a way to get by."

"So were you physically involved in these burglaries, or did you just deal the stolen goods?"

"Both," that was a lie, Alin hardly ever encaged in burglary, only buying stolen items from friends and business partners, but he didn't want to get anyone else in trouble. If he gave even one name, everyone in his community who was involved in crime could end up getting suspected, and he'd landed enough friends in trouble as it was.

Mr Mookjai didn't look convinced, but at that moment Mr Kapur returned with a stern-looking woman in her early thirties. She had a strong jaw and harsh amber eyes, with long, black hair tied in a ponytail snaking down her back.

"Mr Radacanu," he began, "this is Officer Nguyễn, who will be present during your confession."

"Of course," Alin nodded a greeting to the new officer, "so what do I say for this?"

"Just that you confess to twenty known counts of petty theft and you are saying this willingly."

"Err, okay," Alin leaned closer to the tape recorder, "I, Alin Radacanu, voluntarily confess to twenty known counts of petty theft."

"Great, now sign this," Mr Kapur pushed a sheet of paper towards him; "we need to have a written confession too, so it can be presented at the trial."

"Right," Alin took the paper and a biro, scanning through the tiny print and signing.

"Excellent," Mr Mookjai gave a tired smile, "now we can take you back to your cell where you will remain until your tri-"

"Wait," Alin interrupted, "I have to know, what will happen to Tsvetan?"

"Mr Borisov," explained Miss Nguyễn, "will receive a similar prosecution once he's out of hospital."

"Since you've confessed," added Mr Mookjai, "it's likely he will too."

"But he didn't do anything…"

"That's for us to decide, sir."

"No, I know he's innocent! And I'll tell you why and all!" Alin would not let them put Tsvetan through this. Alin himself had felt on edge and unsettled by the interrogation, and he'd confessed pretty early on because he needed to. Mr Kapur probably had a whole range of interrogation techniques up his sleeve that slowly got worse and worse; all those detective inspectors and other policemen probably did. Tsvetan was mentally ill, and would fare a lot worse in police custody. Who knew what he'd end up confessing to out of fear.

The three police exchanged confused but intrigued glances.

"Go on," Mr Kapur said in a voice that was just above a whisper.

Alin didn't want to say it. He didn't want to say the thing that would make him look like the biggest, most disgusting bastard ever, but it was what he had to do.

 _For Tsvetan_ , he thought to himself.

"Yes, Tsvetan Borisov was my partner in crime," Alin could hardly speak through that lump forming in his throat, but persevered, "but only because I forced him to be."

"What do you mean?" asked Miss Nguyễn, crossing her arms.

"For a while, he was just my roommate and friend, and was not involved in any crimes. He didn't even know what was going on and thought I was just a street performer;" Alin had rehearsed this over and over in hospital, and tried to remember every detail he'd thought up, eyes darting to the right as he did so. "But I needed someone to help me break into places and all. He trusted me a lot, and would tell me his secrets because we were so damn close, so I used them against him."

It hurt to say that; every word tore deeper into Alin, but he continued. "I said he had to do all these illegal things with me or I'd tell everyone in our community he was gay. I said I'd tell his family too. He didn't know how anyone would react to that, so agreed right away, though it was pretty damn clear he didn't want to," His mouth quivered at that, and he buried his face in his hands. He didn't want to say these things! The last thing he'd ever do was hold one of Tsvetan's biggest secrets against him like that, but he needed to convince everyone that his friend had not acted willingly. "I also said I'd tell everyone he liked to sing and bake, and that he got bullied into homelessness in college. I was prepared to spill every little thing he'd told me in confidence."

"So you blackmailed him for your own gain?" Mr Mookjai's eyebrows shot up.

"That's usually why you blackmail people," Alin shrugged.

"Sir, I hope you understand how serious confessing to such a thing is…"

"I know," Alin tried to blink back the tears slowly forming in his eyes, but couldn't. If he had it his way, he would let the whole world know how much he adored Tsvetan, and how much Tsvetan deserved everyone's love, but things never turned out in his favour. "I pretty much had him wrapped around my little finger," he continued; "I manipulated Tsvet so much he didn't seem to realise I was doing it any more. It was like I pushed him into some form of Stockholm syndrome or something. He thinks I saved him from poverty or some shit, and doesn't see how I screwed him over." He shook his head, a haunted expression on his face. "You have to understand how sorry I am! I abused my best friend! He trusted me and I stamped all over that trust! You should lock me up forever…"

"It's not up to us to decide that," Mr Kapur told him; "it's up to the judge and jury. They'll come to a decision at your trial on how long your sentence will be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Finished this in time for the one year anniversary of this fic! And the bastard thing still isn't finished! Still, only a few more chapters to go, then I can start on the sequel, which, I have to say, is even more emotionally fucked up than this, so be prepared.


	28. Tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mei- Taiwan
> 
> …
> 
> Warning for mentions of depression and suicide in this chapter.

Katya told him she would only be gone for a moment.

She said she was just popping to the toilet and would be back in a minute, but already a minute and a half had gone past and she still wasn't back, leaving Tsvetan stuck in the courthouse lobby alone. He knew he was being silly, but the crowds of journalists and members of the general public were putting him on edge, despite the fact that he was hiding in a small alcove near the corner and remained unseen by most of them.

Elizabeta, Eduard and Antonio were probably there too, but he didn't want to see them. Katya was the only one he could tolerate talking to for long periods, and his other friends made him grumpy and irritable. He couldn't help it; he found thinking and talking painful now, and all so slow. He got far too irritated nowadays and usually ended up snapping at his friends when they visited. He didn't mean to, but found it hard to relax or feel peaceful, even when he was alone, and whenever someone visited him they would almost always do something to startle him, and he'd just end up snapping or even shouting at them to leave him alone.

Katya could calm him down though. She kept her voice soft, and didn't touch him without permission, unlike Antonio, who was always grabbing his shoulders or giving him spontaneous hugs and cheek-kisses. The man didn't mean any harm, and just wished to be affectionate, but the sudden contact always scared Tsvetan.

But Katya was kind without being pitying, still treating him like an adult through her mothering tendencies. She snapped him out of his moods, pampered him and asked about his feelings, visiting as often as she could. She avoided any difficult topics, instead engaging in long, deep, meaningful conversations about anything she could think of, talking about her students, shared hobbies and things she'd read or watched recently. She listened when he needed to rant or cry, and he appreciated her company more than any medical treatments.

He could probably strike up a decent conversation if one of his friends spotted him here, but didn't know how he'd cope if a stranger talked to him. He didn't want morbidly curious people asking him difficult questions or press taking pictures of him like he was some display in a museum. The idea that there were people who would immediately recognise him, and consequently pity or judge him, scared the man. The journalists would bombard him with questions, asking him about his experiences, both at the hands of Jensen and Kirkland and Alin's supposed blackmail. He still didn't know how to react to that last one…

Katya and Eduard had kept him informed of his friend's prosecution whilst he was in hospital, bringing in relevant newspaper clippings for him to read. At first they'd show him any bit of media related to their case or Tsvetan's kidnapping, but soon realised that anything that reminding Tsvetan of his torture would have a drastic effect on their friend's behaviour. It was different each time, depending on what was mentioned, sometimes sending Tsvetan into a full blown panic attack and other times causing him to become suddenly distant and irritable, demanding that Katya and Eduard immediately leave.

Like Alin, they (along with Antonio and Elizabeta) had wanted to know exactly what happened to Tsvetan, if only to understand what he was going through, but Tsvetan didn't want to talk about it.

Since telling Dr Davies everything, he'd only ever spoken about his ordeal with his therapist, and only after several sessions had been spent sat in silence, with Tsvetan glaring at the ground and breathing angrily, ignoring any questions he was asked. Ivan was paying for his therapy sessions- apparently owing Tsvetan after the latter had agreed to provide him with an alibi on several occasions in the past- so Tsvetan had felt guilty at the idea of wasting his friend's money. Ivan kept asking how Tsvetan's therapy was going, and when the other finally, sheepishly told him the truth, he just smiled, saying it was no problem, and that Tsvetan should only talk when he felt ready to. Nevertheless, he still felt guilty. So he eventually started talking and responding to questions, and found it helped, more than he'd imagined. The cognitive behavioural therapy helped him break his problems down and change how he viewed them, making everything wrong with his life seem more manageable.

But with everyone else, he remained closed off. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to picture what Jensen and Kirkland had done or said to him when he was tied up and in agony. He didn't want to tell anyone what his captors had reduced him to, or the utter, raw, humiliation of it all. And he especially didn't want to be reminded that all this was his fault.

Sure the therapy was helping him get rid of poisonous and negative thoughts, but it was slow going, especially when all he could think about was how none of this would've happened if he hadn't stormed out. What if he'd fought back harder? Or turned around when he heard footsteps behind him? What if he'd picked a different route, instead of blindly charging off into a part of town he'd ever been in before?

He knew what Alin was being charged with. He'd kept up to date over the months between the police taking his friend away and today's trial.

At first, he was only aware of the burglary charges, and during his time in hospital he'd waited for the police to arrest too for the same reason; he was just as much to blame for that. But nothing happened. He was questioned about Jensen and Kirkland, and asked to stand as a witness in their trial, but Alin wasn't mentioned. After his injuries had mostly healed, he'd been moved from the burns unit and spent a week in the psychiatric ward whilst the full level of psychological damage was assessed. It was decided that, although he was starting to show symptoms of depression and PTSD, it was too early to tell if those conditions were long term, so he was released and an appointment made for the following month to determine if he needed further treatment. It was suggested that he went to weekly therapy sessions though, just in case.

He was sent home, staying with Katya until his flat had been deemed no longer a crime scene, picked clean of anything that could be used as evidence for both Alin's,

and Jensen and Kirkland's trials. After that, he'd moved back in, tidied up and tried to carry on life as normal. He got a job as a sales assistant in a nearby clothes store and even considered enrolling on a psychology course at a local college and completing is education. It would be an added distraction, and help him get somewhere in life, he'd hoped. He'd gotten a positive response when he suggested it to his therapist.

But then the police called him into the local station, explaining that they needed to take another statement from him, now that his mental health had improved. He'd complied, and at first the questions were only related to his kidnapping, similar to questions the police had asked him in hospital. They asked him what Jensen and Kirkland had done, asked to see his scars and taken photographs to be used as evidence, along with medical records provided by Dr Davies and photographs of Tsvetan when he was still in hospital. All that was fine, and he could just about cope.

Then they asked him about his emotional abuse at the hands of Alin.

When he'd asked them to explain further, the police officer told him that Alin had confessed to blackmailing Tsvetan into committing theft with him. Tsvetan denied it outright, but the officer insisted that he stopped covering for his friend, and that Alin couldn't hurt him anymore so he could say what he liked safely. They told him that they understood that Tsvetan had grown attached to his abuser, and probably couldn't see what had happened to him, but needed to try. After he choked out a confused, exhausted sob about how Alin wasn't always a good friend, and could sometimes 'act like an insensitive dick', he was released.

The moment he'd stepped outside, he'd phoned Katya and demanded she picked him up, preferably with an explanation as to what had happened. So, when they were in the car on the way to Tsvetan's apartment, she told him that Alin had made up a story about him blackmailing Tsvetan so he wouldn't get prosecuted to.

Tsvetan was furious. Katya simply pulled over to listen to her friend scream and rant about how irresponsible Alin was, and how they both should face the consequences of their actions. Eventually, when he was just sobbing quietly, head resting against the dashboard, Katya reminded him that he was in no fit state to be a police suspect, or do time in prison. She also told Tsvetan that he wasn't the only person Alin was covering for, and that Alfred, Toni, Mathew, Ivan and so many others also needed him to lie for their sakes. If Tsvetan was questioned as a suspect, he might let slip something incriminating about one of his friends, or even get pressured into confessing to a crime he didn't commit.

Tsvetan had simply agreed, and they'd continued home, Katya believing he'd let the matter drop. But the moment he was alone in his sitting room, he'd started working his way through every bottle of alcohol he could find in the cupboards, screaming and crying out his guilt. Alin would be spending even longer in jail because of him. He'd pretty much ruined his best friend's life.

Alin had once confessed to him that his arms were covered in burns scars, and that he had an extreme, burning phobia of fire, which led Tsvetan wish he could help his friend overcome those fears, and he'd succeeded, partly. But because Tsvetan had gotten himself kidnapped and tortured, Alin had to face those fears again, probably making his phobia far worse and giving him new, horrific scars. His back would be maimed forever because of Tsvetan.

Tsvetan wanted to disappear. He wished he'd never met Alin; he wished he'd never moved to the US; and if he was completely honest with himself, Tsvetan wished he was never even born. Maybe if he'd not existed, then all this trouble would not have happened. Oh who was he kidding; there was no 'maybe' bout it.

He didn't mean to go as far as he did, but Tsvetan had been too drunk to even realise what he was doing. The guilt, helplessness and hopelessness filled his heart and messed with his head until he just wanted out. And those headache tablets were just lying on the counter, within easy reach…

Rose had been right; Alin was slowly killing him.

He couldn't begin to put into words how grateful he was that Toni had decided to pay him a visit, deciding that, now his friend and neighbour had apparently calmed down, he'd like some company. What he'd found instead was an unconscious Tsvetan lying in sick and broken glass and blood.

He'd been back in hospital ever since. Toni had, through his sobs and tears, phoned an ambulance and Tsvetan had his stomach pumped in the emergency room. After regaining consciousness, he was transferred back to the psychiatric ward and put on medication along with his therapy.

Tsvetan felt awful about the whole thing. He'd not meant to cause any more of his friends pain; he didn't want to be a burden anymore, but he'd just made himself feel worse. He'd lost himself his independence and was stuck constantly being monitored for his own safety. It made him ill.

He was set to be discharged later in the week, but they let him out today for the trial. He couldn't miss it, since the whole thing was his fault, no matter how many times he was told otherwise. This would probably be the last time he saw Alin for years, apart from the occasional visit to whatever prison his friend would be held in. He needed to see it for himself. He needed to look into Alin's eyes as the other received his sentence, and never forget the pain he was causing.

If Katya could hear his thoughts, she'd definitely scold him.

Except she still wasn't back. Tsvetan glanced down at his watch; three minutes. Was that all? He brought the newspaper he was holding up to his face with shaking, gloved hands, pulling at his beanie so it covered more of his face. Tsvetan resigned himself to the fact that, until he reached his normal weight again, he'd always feel cold, no matter where he was. He trembled as he tried to focus on whatever article was in front of him. As long as he didn't think- didn't feel- he'd be fine. No emotions allowed. That's what he told himself every day: as long as he was numb inside, he'd be able to cope.

He had to be, especially today, when the media was everywhere. They'd see if he broke down in court. They'd tell the world. He couldn't let himself be disgraced like that.

He shied away from a pair of law students walking past, talking animatedly about the case.

"I heard the police found traces of human DNA between his teeth!"

"Really?!"

"Uh huh!"

"For fuck's sake Al," Tsvetan muttered to himself. Anything else the students said was obscured by Katya's cheerful greeting as the woman appeared in front of him, smiling warmly.

"It's almost time," she told him in an anxious whisper. Tsvetan nodded, holding out a hand and letting her lead him towards the courtroom. He threw the newspaper in a nearby bin and pulled his hat down further, so that hopefully no one would recognise him. He stuck close to Katya as everyone filed in through the gallery entrance, flinching every time someone brushed past him. Katya just gently squeezed his hand, leading him to the front row of the gallery and sitting him down on a bench next to Elizabeta and the others. He nodded a greeting before looking around at the courtroom.

It was a huge, spacious room with wooden-panelled walls and a large window to his left. Opposite him, was the judge's chair, high and bordered by a pair of American flags. The judge was already in their chair. There was the jury box, and a witness box where, Tsvetan realised, he'd be sitting when he gave evidence against Jensen and Kirkland. He shuddered at the thought of seeing them again.

He quickly scanned over the table containing the clerk and court reporter; they weren't important to him. In front of him, there were two tables, one already filled with the prosecution and the other containing two defence lawyers. Alin was nowhere to be seen.

When everyone was, at long last, seated in the gallery, the suspect was finally brought in through a different door by the judge's chair. Alin was handcuffed, and led by two policemen. His hair fell flat and dull, his mouth was pulled into a grimace, and when he looked around, it was with tired, baggy eyes.

He spied Tsvetan in the gallery, and flashed a grin before being turned around by the police and sat at the defence table, in between the two lawyers. Tsvetan gave a small smile in return, but Alin couldn't see him anymore. There were more important things to think about now.

The trial was about to start.

…

Tsvetan wasn't paying too much attention to what the judge was saying as they read out the charges. Petty theft, larceny, breaking and entering…  _Oh Alin, what have we done?_  Technically, neither of them had committed any of those. Their only crime was receipt of stolen property and selling it on, and maybe a little bit of fraud too. Tsvetan cringed when the judge finished their sentence with '…and blackmail'. Alin was ruining himself for his friend's sake!  _No, don't think. Don't remember. Don't let the world see you cry…_

The judge turned to Alin, looking at him evenly; "Alin Radacanu, how do you plead?"

"Guilty, your honour."

 _Wait_ , Tsvetan blinked, leaning closer and starting at the back of his friend's head. What the hell was he playing at now? He wasn't even letting himself be tried first?

Alin was standing, back straight and shoulders relaxed; Tsvetan couldn't see his expression, but guessed it was either defiant and smug, or sheepish and apologetic, but judging by the confused gasps from the audience, and Alin's love of the theatrics, he guessed the former.

"Sir," began the judge, "do you understand the nature of what you are being charged with?"

"I do, your honour."

"And you understand that repeat cases of theft alone is a felony and you be sentenced with time in prison?"

"I do, your honour."

"And, Mr Radacanu, are you aware of your right to plead innocent."

"I am, your honour." Alin's head tilted slightly, "still pleading guilty though."

"In that case, I have no choice but to find you guilty of multiple cases of larceny, breaking and entering, petty theft and blackmail. I sentence you to four years imprisonment with a minimum of eighteen months."

Alin just nodded, staring at the floor.

…

"I'm Mei Wang, reporting live in front of the city courthouse where Mr Radacanu has just pleaded guilty to all charges against him." Mei stood in the rain, holding her microphone tightly as her dark hair blew in her face. This was her first big report, and she'd wanted to look her best for it, but now her make up was running, her suit soaked and her hair ruined. Hopefully, the viewers, and Im Yong Soo and Mathias Densen back in the studio presenting the news would understand why. She could hear them asking questions into her earpiece, and tried to answer to the best of her knowledge. Still, at least the trial had been relatively short, and she was glad her first big report hadn't involved her desperately trying to stay away through presentations of evidence and boring legal jargon.

Journalism was a glamorous job, she'd told herself as a girl. She snorted bitterly at the memory;  _yeah, right…_

"And was Tsvetan Borisov, who Mr Radacanu allegedly tried to save, present at the trial?" Mathias asked.

"Indeed he was," Mei answered, still staring evenly at the cameras pointed at her, "I saw him in the gallery, but he has yet to leave the courthouse, even when Mr Radacanu was led to the police van."

"Strange. Still, see if you can get an interview with him when he turns up."

"I will."

…

Tsvetan lingered in the lobby of the courthouse, listening to the distant sounds of the press outside. As soon as everyone had been dismissed, and Alin led away, he'd ran out of the room, hiding in the toilets until he was sure the press and public had left the building.

Now here he was, alone, baffled and oh so angry.

He heard the footsteps of flat shoes behind him, and found Katya walking towards him.

"There you are," she began, "I was looking everywhere for you! You shouldn't run off like-"

"He didn't even give himself a chance," Tsvetan interrupted, voice hoarse, "he didn't even let the judge and jury see the evidence for themselves."

"What would be the point of that? They'd find him guilty anyway."

"But it wouldn't have been definite," Tsvetan pressed, "there still would've been a chance!"

"Keep telling yourself that honey," Katya sighed, "I think he probably just wanted to get it all over with as soon as possible. You'll have to ask him when you visit him yourself."

"I hate him," Tsvetan whispered. Katya just smiled, taking his hand.

"No you don't."

"Oh yes," Tsvetan glared at her; "I hate that bastard so much, with his morals and being noble and shit. But I love him too."

"I know," Katya smiled warmly, starting to walk towards the door.

"But there are press outside!"

"Then we'll have to run," Katya winked, "keep your hat down and don't stop until you see my car."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god what is this?
> 
> So Mathias Densen is Denmark, and to be honest this chapter was supposed to mostly be from his and Korea's points of view as well, but I changed it to follow Tsvetan for the whole chapter, because I wanted to explore his character and reactions more. There's only two chapters left, but oh well…
> 
> Plus, I'm kind of in a bad place mentally, so I thought writing him would be therapeutic, or at least some sort of relief. It might've helped a bit, not sure though.


	29. Together and alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Similar warnings apply to this chapter to the last one. In addition, it is set in a prison environment, to warn anyone who finds that sort of thing upsetting, and there are mentions of alcoholism.

_Fours weeks of sentence served._

…

"So what are things like here?"

This was Tsvetan's first time visiting, and now he understood why it had taken him so long. After producing an ID and signing in, he'd been searched and made to walk through a metal detector, and then sniffer dogs checked for any drugs he might be carrying. He'd not been happy about the search at all, but knew he wouldn't be allowed back if he refused, so just let the staff get on with it. He hated it though, being patted down and touched by unfamiliar hands. It put him on edge. Still, by the time he'd shoved all his possessions into a locker and handed over a deposit (twenty dollars), he was feeling slightly better, though the hefty deposit had irritated him somewhat.

Still, now he was sitting in the middle of the most miserable room opposite the most wonderful person he knew. Alin shrugged at the question.

"So, so," he replied, "I'm pretty busy usually, with work and education classes and all. The whole thing's a bit dull really."

"Have you made any new friends?"

Alin wrinkled his nose; "I'm not some child at a new school."

"Ah, sorry," they both laughed, smiling warmly at each other. They sat at a dull grey table on hard, plastic chairs, surrounded by similar friends, spouses and relatives talking and joking with inmates, or sat solemnly exchanging news. Since it was a Wednesday, the place wasn't as crowded as it could be, so there wasn't too much din and disruption. Several guards were stationed around the room to keep an eye on the prisoners, in case anyone broke any regulations.

"So how come it took you all this time to visit?" Alin propped his head up with his hands, raising an eyebrow.

"I guess…" Tsvetan shrugged, "I was a bit nervous about the whole thing, you know? It sounded a bit scary, what with the searching and being in a crowded room, so I waited until I felt ready."

"Fair enough, though you do realise I'm only allowed two, hour-long visits a week, right? And the place has a 'use it or lose it' policy with visiting time, so you either see me twice a week, or not at all. I'd like to spend those times seeing your pretty face."

"Well…" Tsvetan grinned sheepishly, "I'll try to take some time out of my week to drop in then. But wait, wouldn't you rather someone else visited too?"

"There's a reason why I only put you on my visitors list," Alin winked, "I don't think I could spend a whole hour talking to anyone else. I just want to see you as much as I can."

"But Sadik, Alfred, Katya and Toni will want to visit too! They told me in person," Tsvetan protested; "I'm sure they'll be better at cheering you up than me."

"I don't want cheering up! I just want to see you…"

"Well, thanks." Tsvetan reached his hand across the table, squeezing Alin's briefly before any of the prison guards saw. When they first met, they were allowed a quick hug before being seated, and hadn't had any contact since. He knew they weren't allowed to hug or kiss during the visit, but could they at least hold hands? Probably not. It would look too suspicious, like Tsvetan was trying to smuggle something into the prison via Alin or something. Still, it didn't look like anyone had noticed.

"You should put some more people on your list," he added, "in case something happens to me or there's some emergency and I can't get here. They don't have to visit unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Alright," Alin rolled his eyes, "I'll add some people if you don't go on about it."

"Fine." A minute passed before anyone spoke.

"There's something I'd like to talk to you about," Alin began, "and I guess everything's sort of calmed down now, so I can bring it up."

"Yes," Tsvetan played with his hands nervously, looking down at his knees.

"It's about something you said," Alin spoke in a low, even voice, "that night, in the cellar…"

"I said a lot of stupid shit! I thought I was dying," Tsvetan refused to meet Alin's eyes. Was he seriously going to do this here? With everyone else around? Still, no one was even paying them any attention, and besides, communicating with other prisoners and visitors wasn't allowed.

"Do you include the confession of love in the 'lot of stupid shit'?"

"So you remembered, huh?" Tsvetan looked around, grinning sheepishly and still refusing to look directly at the other. "Well, I guess it all depends on how you feel about the whole thing as to whether or not I see it as stupid."

"You know how I feel," Alin frowned, "I told you I loved you there and then."

"You did?"

"You don't remember?" Tsvetan shook his head and Alin sighed, "well, I guess you were kinda out of it… Still, things are mutual. I'm proud to say I love you, not just romantically, but as my best friend and partner in crime, which probably isn't the best thing to say here. Still, I can't see myself with anyone else."

"Really?" Tsvetan gave a brief grin before his smile fell, "so what do we do about it?"

"Well, if I wasn't in here, I'd take you out somewhere. We could go see a film, or go for a dance, get something to eat then stroll through the park. Before all that, I'd pop out for a few hours, get dressed up nicely at a mate's house and buy some flowers, then turn up at the door, comment on how amazing you looked, and date the fuck out of you."

"Date the fuck out of me?" Tsvetan raised an eyebrow, snorting and looking at Alin with a smirk.

"Or something to that affect;" the prisoner airily waved a hand, "but it doesn't matter anyway. I'm here and can't just take you out somewhere." He looked down, resting his hands on his lap, "I'm pretty much useless to you, huh?"

Tsvetan sighed, leaning over and curling a finger under Alin's chin, lifting his face up and staring determinedly at the other, "listen here, Alin Radacanu, you may be many things, like a crook, a weird bastard and sometimes a downright shit-"

"Thanks, I feel so much better…"

"Shush. You may be those things some of the time, but you're also one of the most selfless people I've ever met. I think the fact that you're here proves that. You're also kind, and you make a genuine effort to be sensitive, and I thank you for that. You may not realise it, but your personality is beautiful, and yes, you're not too bad to look at either. Al, how many people do you think would do what you did for someone they care about?"

"You'd be surprised," Alin shrugged, "besides, I had a lot of help."

"Still…"

"Thank you though," Alin grinned, "you cheered me right up!"

"Good to know," Tsvetan barked out a laugh, covering his mouth with a hand.

"Still, I'd be pretty shitty to have as a partner. You can go on about how great I am- in fact, I encourage that- but the matter of fact is that I can't take you on dates while I'm banged up in here!"

"There's more to a relationship than going on dates," Tsvetan commented, "but if they mean that much to you, I'll see what I can do." He stood up, making his way over to the vending machine in the corner of the room and pulling out the clear bag he kept his loose change in, as part of the prison visiting regulations. He put a few coins in the slot and punched in the numbers for a small packet of sweets, collecting his snack and making his way back to Alin's table.

"We can still have dates," he explained as he opened the packet, pouring the sweets onto the table in between them, "it's just that they'll be in here. Doesn't mean they can't be fun."

"I see," Alin took a sweet, holding it between his fingers and looking at it with interest before popping the thing into his mouth, "so this is our first date?"

"It appears so," Tsvetan let out a giggle, grinning widely, "wow, I've thought about this or ages, if I'm honest, but I'd never thought for a moment it would actually happen…"

"Seriously? Well, I'm glad I can make this a reality."

"Excuse you, it was my idea, and I'm the one paying for the meal!"

"And what a lovely one it is too," Alin ate another sweet, chewing it slowly, "in that case," he added, rolling his eyes, "I'm glad you made it a reality for yourself."

Tsvetan just nodded, eating a sweet of his own. Alin grinned almost animalistically, leaning forward and crossing his legs.

"So, Mr Borisov, tell me a bit about yourself."

Tsvetan laughed before replying, "well, I'm twenty two, from Sofia, and work at a clothes store, though I'm applying to do a psychology major at a community college and hope to get a job as a counsellor one day."

"Really?" Alin's eyebrows shot up.

"Well, my parents said they'd get the money together," Tsvetan shrugged, "if I get a good job at the end of it then it'll be worth it, according to them."

"Well good luck with that!"

"And you? What are your plans for the future?"

"To be the amazing bastard I already am, and maybe sort my life out. Yes, it'll definitely be a fresh start!" He sighed, leaning back in his chair, "the number of times I've told myself that before…"

"Maybe it'll come true this time. I believe in you."

"That's not really something you say on a first date, but thanks anyway."

"Seriously, Al?"

Alin raised a hand, "now, now, just play along!"

"Fine."

"Have I ever told you that you have the most beautiful eyes?" Alin leaned forward again, chewing on a sweet and grinning with half-lidded eyes as he stared evenly at Tsvetan, who blushed.

"No, but I like it when you do."

"Good. It might become a habit of mine."

"Not your worst habit by a long shot," Tsvetan replied flatly.

"Are you even pretending this is a date? I thought this was your idea! Just play along."

"Fine," Tsvetan rolled his eyes, "so, Mr Radacanu, is that a knife in your pocket or are you pleased to see me?"

"Just because I'm in prison doesn't mean I carry a knife!" scoffed Alin, "wow you're so rude."

"I'm a comedic genius."

"Keep telling yourself that…"

"I will," Tsvetan stuck his tongue out.

"I guess you'll have to," Alin shot back, "since no one will."

"…Why am I even on a date with you?"

…

"Sir, it's time for you to go," a guard tapped Tsvetan on the shoulder and he jumped slightly, "your hour is up and there are others waiting for a seat."

"Understood," Tsvetan nodded and stood up, but Alin grabbed his sleeve.

"I have to ask, before you go," he muttered, "how are you coping?"

"Fine," Tsvetan gave a fake smile, "just fine."

Alin wasn't convinced, but let him go. He stood up, moving around the table to give Tsvetan a brief hug and kiss him on both cheeks. "Take care, okay?"

Tsvetan spoke with a flat, self-conscious tone; "same to you, dear."

…

_Three months of sentence served._

…

Alin listened silently as Tsvetan sung in a gentle, low voice. He couldn't understand what the man was saying, but loved it nonetheless. It used to be a regular thing, before Tsvetan's kidnapping, and he missed it more than so many things. He remembered how Tsvetan would just sit next to the window in the living room, singing about love, death, his homeland and many other things in his language as he looked over the city, probably daydreaming about his future. Alin would sometimes joke about not being able to hear the TV, but honestly preferred Tsvetan's voice.

When Tsvetan had finished this time, he blushed slightly, throwing a small smile in Alin's direction.

"So what did you think?"

Alin tried to blink back tears as he rested his chin on his hands; "I miss you so much."

…

_Eight months of sentence served._

…

"So how's college?" Alin grinned over the table as he bit into his half of a chocolate bar.

"Great so far!" Tsvetan beamed back, holding his own half of the bar, "I've made a few friends and everyone's really pleasant. It feels like when I was a teen, except I'm older and surrounded by these pipsqueaks who aren't even old enough go on the piss with me once in a while. Still, it's a nice atmosphere."

"And you haven't started trouble with anyone?"

"Oh no!" Tsvetan smiled proudly, "I'm friendly with everyone! I think everyone sees me as a big brother, or at least a funny, drunken uncle."

Alin laughed at that, "that's good to know. But go easy on the booze, okay? That stuff makes you go really weird."

"You're one to talk."

"Maybe," Alin shrugged, laughing to himself.

"What so funny now?" Tsvetan raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a smile.

"Oh, nothing," Alin waved a hand, "just thinking about whether it's cool or creepy that I'm dating a student."

"I'm twenty two you wacko," Tsvetan scoffed, though he couldn't stop himself from laughing, "wow what goes on in that head of yours?"

"Do you really want an answer to that?" Alin stuck out his tongue.

"Not really, if I'm honest."

…

_Eleven months of sentence served._

…

"Give me the bottle," Katya looked at her friend sternly, holding out a hand like a teacher who had caught a student passing a note in class.

"No," Tsvetan mumbled, taking a defiant swig of wine, slumped on the couch in his dim living room. It was already half empty, and there was no way Tsvetan was prepared to turn it over to his friend until he drank every drop.

"You've had too much already!" Katya shook her head, "you'll do yourself a load of damage! Alcohol is a depressant, remember? You'll get worse again! You always go into a bad place when you binge."

"Maybe I want to go back there," Tsvetan mumbled.

"Don't you dare," Katya tried to snatch the bottle away, but Tsvetan put a hand on her forehead, pushing her away and holding the bottle out of her reach with the other. "You're being ridiculous! You were doing so well; don't let it all be for nothing."

"Oh who cares anymore?" Tsvetan glared at her, "I know you want things to be easier for yourself, but I'm sad today, and want to forget why I'm sad."

"It won't make the reason you're upset go away," Katya reminded him.

"But it'll help me not think about it for a few hours," Tsvetan took another gulp of the fruity alcoholic beverage, and Katya quickly grabbed it, pulling it away from his lips and covering them both in wine.

"Now look at what you've done!" Tsvetan jumped up, looking down at his shirt in horror.

"It can be cleaned," Katya shrugged, finishing off the wine so Tsvetan couldn't, "it doesn't matter if the shirt is ruined, but it matters if you are, okay?"

"No it doesn't…" Tsvetan looked at the floor.

"Look, Borisov," Katya sighed, "I know what alcoholism does to people-"

"I'm not an alcoholic!"

"You kinda are," Katya turned the wine bottle over in her hand, "or a frequent binge drinker at the very least." Tsvetan didn't reply, and she continued; "listen, I know what alcohol does to people, and I don't want to see one of my best friends cut his life short because of it. I was the one who took Ivan to all those alcoholics anonymous sessions when he was younger. He was in an awful place, but got help!"

"He's still an alcoholic though!"

"Actually he's just a drunk now," Katya smiled sheepishly up at him.

"You're talking shit now…"

"Must be the wine talking," Katya joked as Tsvetan sat back down on the other end of the couch to her; "so what's troubling you, hon?"

"I miss Al," Tsvetan sighed, leaning back and picking at the arm of the chair, "I miss having him here and seeing him regularly and us doing dumb shit together. I miss his presence here, and his loud voice and tacky jokes and reckless ideas on how to make money. I hate being alone all the time. I hate it I hate it I hate it! This loneliness is like sickness that won't go away!"

"I see," Katya held out a hand, and Tsvetan allowed her to rub his shoulder soothingly. "I'm not going to lie: he won't be out of there for a while, so you'll have to get on without him for now. But you can still visit him!"

"Yes for two hours a week on opposite ends of a piece of crap table in some miserable visiting room. I can't even kiss him properly because it's against regulations! Sometimes I just want to snuggle up to him and hold him close but I can't and it's so lonely…"

"You have us," Katya tried, "neither me or Toni or Alfred will object to you hugging us every now and then."

"Yes but none of you are Al," Tsvetan shot back, "no offense, but I need a lanky frame dressed in weird clothes with long shaggy hair and pointy teeth. I need Alin!"

"And you'll get Alin, in three years."

"I guess," Tsvetan looked away, "fan-fucking-tastic."

"That's not all, is it?"

"How do you do that?"

"Instinct?" Katya tried, "so what's wrong?"

"I'm getting nightmares again," Tsvetan admitted, "I thought they'd gone months ago but they're back and I'm not getting enough sleep, which affects school and work and it's making me so damn stressed."

"What are they about, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm tied up," Tsvetan began, "to this chair and you and everyone I know just takes turns to beat me," he covered his face with his hands.

"We'd never do that to you, I promise."

"I know!" Tsvetan glared at her, "I'm not an idiot. But it was so real and it makes me too scared to be around you all."

"You should tell your teacher," Katya suggested, "they can probably help better than me. Or go back into therapy."

"I can't afford that! And I'm not gonna ask for money," he added before Katya could say anything. "But I guess my teacher could give me some advice; I'll try it!"

"That's all I ask."

"Well, I should probably take a nap," Tsvetan yawned, "since I got fuck all sleep last night."

"I'll leave you in peace," Katya stood up to leave, "but before I go, I better make sure you don't do anything stupid." She walked over to the kitchen area and rummaged through the cupboards, pulling out any bottles of drink she found.

"Oh come on!" Tsvetan protested as he stood up, "that's unfair!"

"It's for your own good," Katya stuffed them into her large handbag, giggling, "wow I hope a cop doesn't pull me over on my way home, or I'll be joining Alin."

"You'd deserve it," he mumbled.

"I'm just trying to help," Katya sighed at him. He knew he shouldn't be so harsh with his friend; she might be patient and understanding with him, but he knew deep down that she was extremely sensitive, and her feelings were easily hurt by cruel words.

"I'm sorry," he told her, walking over and rubbing her arm, "I'm grateful, honestly."

"Good!"

After they'd said their goodbyes, Katya left. Tsvetan chuckled to himself as he wandered into his room, kneeling on the floor and pulling a bottle of vodka out from under his bed.

"Gullible idiot," he mumbled as he unscrewed the top.

…

"So how is he?" Eduard asked as he watched Katya search her pockets for the spare key to Tsvetan's apartment. He heard his girlfriend sigh through the dim light.

"I don't know," she admitted, "I've been too busy to visit, but hopefully he's managed. Alfred said he was fine this morning though."

"Heard he gave you trouble last time," Eduard commented.

"Only because he was acting like a child," Katya replied, "he was drinking too much again so I told him not to. I think he's stopped being so disobedient now."

"Good to know…"

Katya nodded as she finally produced the key and unlocked the door. "Still," she told him, "he'll probably be glad of some company."

Eduard nodded as she opened the door and walked inside. He was about to follow her when a shrill scream cut through the air.

"Ed, quick! Phone an ambulance! Oh dear god Tsvet please wake up…"

…

"Again?" Alin sighed whilst Tsvetan squirmed under the other's gaze.

"I was… in a terrible place," he played with his hands nervously, seeming to shrink in his chair, "I didn't see a way out and was so alone…"

"This is your fourth attempt at suicide," Alin commented, resting his head on one of his hands, "why do you do this to us?"

"It's not about you!" Tsvetan hissed, "I'm on my own and trapped in these thoughts and memories I can't escape! Numbing myself didn't help, and neither does the alcohol, in the end, so I tried something more drastic and it caused everyone pain and I feel so damn guilty about it but I don't know what other option I have!"

"I'm sorry," Alin looked away, "it must be hard for you, and I need to remember that. But the pain will go away, eventually."

"What do you even know? You didn't have to go through it."

"But I did," Alin whispered, "and I know I got off lightly but what happened with Jensen and Kirkland messed me up too." He'd told himself he wouldn't talk about his own trauma, not while Tsvetan was suffering, but the other had to understand what he was going through, even just so he knows he's not alone. That was all he was saying on the matter though; no need to tell Tsvetan about his night terrors, which left him waking up screaming and terrified, unheard by the world outside his cell, or how he'd had a panic attack when he saw another inmate lighting a cigarette. He didn't want to talk about how he hated changing or showering, because he'd see his scars in the mirror. His back was disfigured and distorted, red and bumpy and it made him feel ugly, like his physical appearance was finally reflecting the darker parts of his personality. It was a mark of his own stupidity and cruel nature, and he hated the sight of it.

"I'm sorry," Tsvetan mumbled, "I forgot…"

"Don't worry about it," Alin winked, "that's my job."

"I'll still worry."

"Look, can you do me a massive favour?"

"Anything!"

"Get Toni to move in with you," Alin told him firmly, looking him in the eyes, "or Alfred or one of old man Vargas' boys. Just have someone living with you and keeping an eye on you."

"Way ahead of you," Tsvetan gave a forced grin, "Toni's living with me now. It's loud, and he hugs a lot, but I guess that's better than before."

"Good to hear it."

"Al, I'm so sorry about everythi-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Alin growled, "just focus on getting yourself better and looking after your own health."

"I'm trying! Honest!"

"Just keep on trying, okay?"

"Will do."

…

_Two years of sentence served_

…

"So, Mr Borisov, how was your day?" Alin leaned heavily on the table, smiling seductively at Tsvetan, who blushed.

"Alright, I guess. Made a start on my assignment. Decided to get a pet."

"You just woke up and bought an animal?" Alin raised an eyebrow.

"Not at all! Why would you think that?"

"Sounds like something you'd do…"

"Well I haven't bought one yet. I just thought that I could do with some company now that Toni's moved back upstairs. So I was looking on the internet and decided a snake would be a good choice!"

"A snake? Are you serious? Tsvet, you can barely look after yourself! If you need company then buy a fish or something that doesn't require too much care."

"But I'd be fine with a corn snake," Tsvetan argued, "they're little and don't need much caring and aren't too difficult. I can talk to it when I'm alone too, and feed it and fuss over it. Funny, I thought you'd love to come back home to a little pet snake. You'd probably find those kinds of creatures cute."

"I would! And I love snakes," Alin replied, "but it was just so sudden."

"I know, but I'll make sure to research thoroughly before getting one," Tsvetan shrugged; "I decided that when I get one it'll be called Vladislav."

"If you start referring to it as your child I'm break up with you," Alin joked.

"Is someone jealous?"

"Not at all, now can I tell you some exciting news of my own? Or do you need to inform me that you've decided to buy any more beasties? Starting a zoo, perhaps? Recreating Noah's ark?"

"Go ahead." Tsvetan decided to ignore most of what Alin had said.

"Apparently I've been such a good little prisoner that they're reducing my sentence by a whole year!"

"Seriously?" Tsvetan stared at him, astounded, "that's fantastic!"

"I know," Alin fidgeted excitedly in his seat, "I can't wait!"

"It's still a long way away…" Tsvetan deflated, looking at the floor miserably.

"Only a year," Alin reminded him, "we've already done most of it!"

"I guess…"

"So, shall we get on with our date? I'm feeling peckish. Don't really get to snack on chocolates and sweets most days."

Tsvetan laughed, pulling his change out of his pocket and getting up to go to the vending machine. His step was lighter than Alin had seen it for a while, like the weight of his love's imprisonment was finally beginning to lift itself from his back, and he could begin to forgive himself.

"Why do I find you so adorable?" he asked before he left.

"Because you're a poor madman," Alin muttered when the other was out of earshot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I should describe this chapter as a roller coaster or a train wreck. So yeah only one more chapter left. I can't fucking believe it! This took ages to write because I forgot to write notes on this chapter then wondered why I couldn't remember what goes in it, so yeah it turned out very different from what I intended. Still, not unhappy with it.
> 
> Luckily I have a clear idea of what's happening next, because I have a written record of it.
> 
> Reviews make my week yo!


	30. Together

Alin walked along dingy corridors in silence, barely containing his excitement. Next to him, strode a pair of large, intimidating wardens, the men escorting him to his freedom, and Tsvetan. Around him, thieves, murderers, arsonists, kidnappers, and the falsely accused sat in their orange prison overalls, locked away in cramped cells on tiny, hard bunks. It was still too early for them to be up and about, so there were few people awake to stare and glare at him as he left them behind and was let out into society again.

Before that, though, he was led into a cloakroom where he was given back his civilian clothes, and he changed before being let out. After four years of prison uniform, he couldn't wait until he got back to his own wardrobe and his own clothes, not Toni's unsavoury garments, not a hospital gown, and not a sickly-orange set of overalls. When he was in his red, long sleeved shirt and black trousers, complete with a miniature, ribboned hat, the wardens began to lead him down yet more corridors.

Eventually, they came to the hefty, metal, front door and one of the wardens began unlocking it, working painfully slowly to get the old, creaking thing open. Alin rolled his eyes.

"Now, you just remember what happens when you break the law," warned the other warden, "I don't want to see you here again."

"Noted."

"Well, good luck to you then." The door was opened and Alin walked through into the sunlight. He vaguely recalled hearing the door slamming behind him and looked around, blinking in protest at the bright light. He was standing outside the huge, grey prison building, the one he'd spent the last three years in and before him was a long, concrete driveway leading to the large, imposing front gates, surrounded on either side by a massive grey wall covered in barbed wire. The long expanse of wall was broken by lookout towers manned with patrolling guards carrying guns. Throughout the grounds there were inmates going about janitorial work, not paying him any attention.

He began walking, torn between admiring his shirt and trousers, and looking for the one person he wanted to see. Not only did he miss Tsvetan terribly, but the prison was on the other side of town to their apartment, and walking home would take an insane amount of time. He was glad his partner had finally learnt to drive and bought his first car. He was also glad that they knew someone who dealt in cheap cars and could give them one for a good price. Admittedly, they were only cheap because they were somewhat illegal. Not a good start to a lawful life, Alin realised with amusement.

After passing through the gates, Alin stood in silence for a few minutes, just letting his new freedom sink in, and shivered from it. Now the wall only stretched out behind him, not trapping him on all sides. In front of him were building sites, old factories and landfill sites, an empty road separating him from any other building. He looked down at his scuffed plimsolls. There were greyish brown paving slabs under his feet, instead of his old cell floor and he loved it.

"Adjusting, Radacanu?"

Alin turned around to find Tsvetan leaning against the wall behind him, wrapped in an old, thick coat and bobble hat. In the three years he was separated from Alin, he'd slowly filled out, no longer looking like a skeleton of a man, and losing the grey colour in his face, as well as any traces of burns and bruising. His body fat and muscle had returned, and his face was round and bright again, though there were still signs of lasting damage. He was still not quite back to his original weight, and years of alcohol abuse had given him a slightly bloated, flabby stomach, which he hid under his coat. There were dark bags under his eyes and his hands seemed to shake when he took them out of his pockets, wrists circled with faint white scars. There were similar scars on his face and neck, probably even more on his torso, but nevertheless, he seemed far healthier than he had three years ago. Happier too.

Alin let out a cry of relief and ran to pull his partner into a crushing hug.

"It's… it's you!"

Tsvetan laughed out loud; "who else?" Then he leaned forward, gently taking Alin's hands in his and pulling the other towards him. He leaned against the wall, keeping them out of sight of the prison guards above, and pulled Alin even closer, leaning down so they were almost nose to nose.

"There's something I've wanted to do," he began awkwardly, "for years now. I hope you don't mind-"

Alin understood, and shut him up with a kiss. Their noses bumped awkwardly as their faces met, and Alin tilted his head slightly, wrapping his arms gently around the other's neck. Tsvetan's eyes widened for a second before closing as he tried to respond to Alin's lips. It was clear that he didn't have a clue as to what he was supposed to be doing, probably out of practice, or too nervous to think, so Alin took control, not that the other minded. He moaned lightly and pulled Alin closer. They'd waited years for this and now everything felt perfect, and all Alin cared about was that Tsvetan was here, so close that the buttons of his coat were digging into Alin's stomach but he didn't even notice that. Three years. He'd sat almost touching Tsvetan for three years knowing that the other was his but couldn't truly be until his sentence was up. Now there were no guards and regulations or visiting hours. Just them. Forever, if Tsvetan let it be.

Eventually, yet all too soon for Alin, they pulled away, Tsvetan grinning and breathing hard.

"Oh god," Alin just held him close, feeling the other's warmth and sold form. All those quick embraces and pecks on the cheek during visiting times had not been nearly enough for him and he just wanted to cling to Tsvetan forever, feeling the man's heartbeat and steady breath against his neck. There had been so many times when he thought he'd never see Tsvetan again, and now they were about to start their life together. Actually together, this time. There would be no more sitting on opposite ends of a creaky table sharing sweets, oh no, they would have a real relationship. As Alin buried his face in Tsvetan's hair, letting out a sob, he pictured how they could spend their evenings curled up in front of the TV together, getting to know each other's little habits and actions all over again. They could talk for hours interrupted about whatever they wanted, and joke and laugh and cuddle, just sitting there tangled together on the sofa saying nothing, but it would be perfect. He couldn't wait.

"So," he began, finally prizing his arms away from Tsvetan's torso, "where's that crapmobile you bought?"

"How rude," Tsvetan stuck out his tongue, "I'm tempted to send you back in there now."

"From what I heard about where you got that car," Alin retorted, "you ought to be joining me."

"True," Tsvetan nodded, grinning unapologetically, "still, I thought it would be nice to take a walk with you. We can talk on the way home; I thought it would be far more pleasant than having to focus on driving more than you."

"But that's a whole hours journey," Alin groaned; "we could've talked at home, you know."

"But I wouldn't be able to do this if I was driving;" Tsvetan shyly snaked his hand into Alin's, entwining their fingers and swinging his arms back and forth slowly.

"A good point," Alin let Tsvetan begin to lead him down the road, away from the prison and the last stage of their horrendous experiences. The past could finally be left in the past now, no consequences of past actions would be able to stop them any more. There was no part of Alin's past to rear its ugly head and take a bite out of Tsvetan. They could never go back to how things were before, and Alin wouldn't have it any other way.

He hoped Tsvetan had a lot to talk about, because he couldn't think of anything to say when the other was this close to him. He could feel his partner's body heat, steady and here to stay. There was no way that he'd ever let Tsvetan go again. He'd learnt his lesson.

"So how are you?" he asked.

Tsvetan looked at him curiously before replying; "fine, I guess."

"And how's Vladislav doing?"

"Great! He's really excited to see you! Oh Al, he's such a little dear and so cute! You'll love him, I can tell!"

Alin laughed, "good to know. I'll treat him like the son you think he is."

"Cheers!"

"So," he looked away awkwardly, "still teetotal?"

Tsvetan nodded proudly, "haven't had a drink in a year."

"And?"

"I hate it," the young man growled. Alin looked at Tsvetan's face closely, and observed how his trembling hands rubbed the bridge of his nose agitatedly, and his eyes squeezed shut as he tried not to think about desperate he was for a drink.

"Couldn't you talk to a professional about it being possible for you to drink in moderation? I'm sure you can still have fun if you stay safe."

"I'm too scared," Tsvetan explained, "last time I drank I tried to off myself and don't want to touch another drop again, especially now when we have a whole new start."

"Fair enough," Alin shrugged, "it's your choice."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's presence.

"I guess I'll have to start looking for a job now," Alin began.

"Mm, that'll be nice. And an honest one too!" Tsvetan stared at him evenly, "no more dodgy stuff. I don't want to have to visit you in jail again."

"Noted," Alin smiled innocently, "although…"

"No."

"But I've thought up five new scams whilst I was inside!"

"No way!" Tsvetan shook his head, "we're going straight!"

Alin raised an eyebrow, smirking at his partner, "oh we are, are we?"

"I mean in terms of crime," Tsvetan added, rolling his eyes, though he couldn't contain a smile.

"I know," Alin leaned over to kiss Tsvetan's cheek, "so do you know anywhere I could get work?"

"Nothing's coming to mind, sorry," Tsvetan's brows furrowed together as he thought, "I guess we could ask around though. Everyone pretty much owes you for not blabbing to the police anyway."

"They do indeed," Alin grinned, almost evilly, whilst Tsvetan just sighed.

"Don't go pissing anyone off," he warned, "I'm looking forward to a nice, peaceful life from now on."

"Understood! Nice and peaceful… sounds like a plan!"

Tsvetan chuckled and they walked in calm silence. They passed shops and houses, ignored by people dashing past in the morning rush hour and after ten minutes or so came across the entrance to a park, deciding to take a short cut, hoping it would be undisturbed and give them some added privacy. Alin looked around and realised in horror that this was the same park he'd searched the morning after Tsvetan disappeared. He decided not to mention it to his partner though.

"By the way," began Tsvetan, "I got you a little gift."

"Oh great," Alin stopped and turned to face Tsvetan, hopping excitedly from foot to foot, "what'ya get me?"

"Well…" Tsvetan winked and waved his arms, producing a bouquet from his sleeve. It was one of the more simple tricks that Alin had taught him, and the idea was for it to appear 'out of thin air', but like always, the flowers got caught in his sleeve and their heads and leaves were ripped off.

"Oh," Tsvetan stared dejectedly at the sorry-looking handful of flowers, "I thought I'd got the hang of it."

"Hey they're lovely," Alin laughed and gently took the bouquet whilst Tsvetan shook petals out of his sleeve.

"Still," he sighed, "sorry for ruining your present."

"Don't worry about it! I know this sounds cheesy as hell, but you're the best present I could receive."

"You're right; that  _is_  cheesy as hell!" Tsvetan laughed as he pulled the other into a hug, resting his hands on Alin's back and trying to calm that persistent, ever so slight tremble, but he couldn't. After all this time not being allowed to touch him, Tsvetan was determined to hold onto Alin for as long as he could. It wasn't like there was anyone around to see them anyway.

"So where's my _real_  present?" asked Alin.

"Eh?" Tsvetan pulled away, looking at him curiously.

"You know: your  _other_  gift."

"What other gift?"

Alin pouted; "you mean the flowers are all I got?"

"Afraid so."

Alin stared at him, grinning; "oh come on. I know you too well! What did you get me?"

Tsvetan raised his empty hands as if to prove a point. "Nothing!"

"You mean I spend three years locked up away from everything I know and love, stuck in a building full of dangerous criminals, and all I get at the end of it are some lousy flowers?"

"Yes."

" _Tsve-tan_!"

"Ah, alright," Tsvetan snorted, "you got me."

"I knew it!" Alin jumped up, punching the air, "so where is it?"

"Behind your ear," Tsvetan cupped Alin's face with one hand and stroked the back of his ear with the other. When he pulled his hand away, he held it in front of Alin's face, palm up, and in his hand was a small, black jewellery box.

"Hey you're getting good at that!" Alin laughed. "So what's inside? Earrings? Money? A clue to a bigger present?" He reached out a hand to take it but Tsvetan held it out of reach, wiggling a finger in his partner's face. "Oh come on!" Alin folded his arms, sulking and glowering at the little box.

"I have to give you the gift in a very special way," explained Tsvetan, standing back and staring at him nervously. "You'll have to excuse me though; I've never done this before."

Then he dropped down on one knee.

"Tsvetan, what the fuck are you doing?" Alin looked at the other in confusion. Surely he wouldn't be… Tsvetan opened the box to reveal a simple gold ring topped with a tiny red gem and Alin gasped in horror.

"Seriously? You're  _proposing_?"

Tsvetan looked up in confusion. "Is this too soon?"

"A little," Alin replied weakly, "it's probably best for us to at least spend a few months getting back into a normal routine and getting to know each other all over again. To be honest, I didn't think you were the kind to do this sort of thing at all. I'm the romantic one here dammit!"

Tsvetan shrugged, trying not to show his embarrassment or wounded pride; "it's not meant to be something immediate. I wanted you to think of it as more of a pledge. It's my way of promising to stick with you and help you adjust to life out here again. It's saying that we're gonna continue to stick together and fight the world and be ourselves and we'll do it all together because we love each other, you know? I wasn't making any plans for the near future, I swear!"

"Of course," Alin looked at the ring curiously, and Tsvetan held it out to him. "It's nice of you to go to so much trouble though," as added, taking the tiny item and letting it rest in his palm, "it must've cost a lot too…"

"Not at all!" Tsvetan scoffed, "I got it from Toris. He has about a billion of them. It cost me peanuts!"

"That's nice," Alin said in fake disappointment, "I wish I'd never asked."

"Oh come off it," Tsvetan laughed, "so do you want me to take it back?"

"Oh no," Alin allowed the other to place the ring on his finger, "I guess it'll do until you can afford a real one."

"Don't push your luck," Tsvetan stuck his tongue out and they continued walking, gravel crunching under their feet as their hair twitched in the slight breeze brewing.

"But seriously," continued Alin, "maybe if you had a stable job and saved up…" He was joking, of course, and Tsvetan knew it, but played along. In all honesty, Alin loved it. It was simple and cute, and worth more to him than all the 'real' gold in the world.

"Maybe _you_  can save up and buy  _me_  a ring. I'd love to have the opportunity to reject your proposal." Alin burst out laughing at that.

"But seriously," Tsvetan continued, "I might have a job soon, a career even, not some silly part time job at some store," He stared at the vast green fields and rows of trees that made up the park; there was no one else around, since it was a week day and the sky was starting to cover itself in grey clouds. "I've been volunteering as a counsellor at this high school for a few years now- Katya had a friend who worked there- and I might be getting a permanent job there helping the kids and stuff."

"That's fantastic news!" Alin exclaimed, pulling Tsvetan into a hug and rubbing his back, "hey, you're well on your way to becoming a famous psychologist guy, like that Millwall and Fraud."

"You mean Milgram and Freud?" Tsvetan sighed.

"Sure! That's what I said, wasn't it?"

Tsvetan shook his head, chuckling and deciding it was best to make Alin stop talking. He drew his fiancé into a short kiss, pulling him closer by his shirt and tilting his head to fit with the others'. Their lips met, gently moving over each other, and Tsvetan ran a hand through Alin's long hair, which was back to its original honey colour. When he pulled away, he found a slightly dazed Alin staring back at him.

"Yeah, I'd definitely miss this if I ever went to prison again," he finally choked out, giggling, still slightly stunned.

"Good to know," Tsvetan laughed, once more taking his hand, "now come on. Let's go home. Together."

…

_The end_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it, I guess.
> 
> HOLY SHIT I ACTUALLY GOT THIS FINISHED I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT! And I'm too goddamn tipsy to remember it ;A;. So yeah, if you find anything that doesn't make sense, it's because I drank a fair bit whilst writing this and I will find any mistakes in this chapter soon enough and correct them. But at this moment in time I can barely string a sentence together.
> 
> I guess I'm gonna be starting on the sequel now, huh? Look out for it everyone, if you enjoyed this fic, that is! Not too sure what it'll be called yet, since the working title for it at the moment is 'gay losers on tour', which isn't serous enough for that story. Like I said in a previous chapter, it'll be more fucked up than this one, so have fun!
> 
>  
> 
> Nothing much left to say, except goodnight!


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